Imprisoned
by Wizadora123
Summary: Having re-united on the road to Woodbury to save Daryl, the group come across a lone female survivor; but with the threat of the Governor on the rise and tensions already wearing thin in the prison, will the group be able to stay together when not one but both Dixon's return? A tale of love, blood, loss and redemption. Dark themes. (Merle/OC with Daryl/Carol) Enjoy! :D
1. Chapter 1: Decisions

**_AN: Hello there! Hope you've had a wonderful day, whoever you might be. Whether you had the best day ever or a pretty crapoola one, grab a cup of hot chocolate, snuggle up under a blanket and have a read of this here story. _**

**_Let's get the boring bits out of the way:_**

**_Walking Dead, TV Universe with some comic book easter egg type thingys; starts just as the group rescue Daryl and Merle from Woodbury (series 3, episode 9, 'The Suicide King') but with a different turn of events. The first chapter is mainly canon setting the scene, the next three chapters are build up and background. We completely and utterly break away from the canon in Chapter 35- that's when s**t really starts to hit the fan. Like, FO SERIOUS._**

**_Pairings: Merle/OC primarily, with quite a bit of Daryl/Carol._**

**_Merle/OC is slow developing as I hate rushed romance more than anything in stories, it just makes me cringe- they start interacting around chapter 4-6ish, and the development goes from there. It's very slow, infact-_**

**_*SPOILER*_**

**_They don't even kiss until chapter 33._**

**_*END SPOILER*_**

**_Warnings: This is a post-apocalyptic universe, my friends- if you came here looking for MLP rainbows and smiles, you're in the wrong clubhouse! This story is gonna get dark- very, very dark- in the later chapters. As well as that there's blood, guts, governor-ness, naughty words and Merle-isims throughout! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, MY PRETTIES!_**

_**Disclaimer:**_**_ I do not own the walking dead or it's glorious cast of characters. Boo me._**

**_First chapter is mainly canon, so bare with ;D _**

**Chapter One:**

**Decisions**

"Move that ass, boy, before you get a chunk ripped out of it!" Merle roared at his younger brother, as the two of them ran through the forest- they has spent the entire night of foot, travelling back to wherever the rest of the prison group were hiding out, avoiding Walkers and trying their hardest to keep on their toes. Rick ran ahead of the rest of the group at full speed, making an attempt at creating a barrier between Glenn, Michonne and Daryl's good-for-nothing brother, Merle.

"What the _hell_ is he doing here?" Glenn screamed, all weapons drawn, and Michonne's face beneath her sword was not to be reckoned with- the two sides screamed unintelligibly at each other for several minutes, Daryl acting as a defensive barricade between Glenn and his brother.

"Calm down, China Town!" Merle barked from behind his younger sibling. Rick struggled to maintain some form of peace, until it all got out of hand; Merle butchered some remarks about Andrea and Michonne reacted badly- and Glenn was set to kill. Daryl mouthed off at his brother, trying to force him into conforming to the demands of Rick, and Merle snapped. "Bunch of pussys you roll with-!"

Rick took him out with the hilt of his gun and the huge man dropped like a ton of bricks. The group stared in silence for a minute at the collapsed figure of Merle.

"We need to talk," Rick instructed, moving to the outskirts of the trees.

"So what, you just gonna leave him here under this tree?" Daryl called angrily to the others as they followed, then stoically shook his head and took a quick look at his brother. "Dumb-ass piece of shit," He murmured, giving him a not-quite playful kick before taking chase after the rest of the group. The others were already fired in discussion by the time Daryl reached, one eye turned back and a hand resting on his cross-bow encase a walker appeared and found its way too close to the unconscious Dixon. Daryl started yapping in a raised voice to Glenn. Michonne had been put to work laying to rest a couple of walkers who had stumbled upon their little argument, Katana blade whirling in the background as the row became more heated. It wasn't long till Merle was back up on his feet, a little disoriented but mirthful as ever, and he wandered back to the arguing group where he was met by abuse from Glenn's end.

"I'm going, then!" Daryl snapped eventually, "Merle and me'll go if you don't want us-"

"And what about Carol?" Glenn called over Rick's protests.

"Give him a chance," Daryl tried to reason. "He's good with his hands-"

_"Hand,"_ Merle corrected, jabbing his knife into the tree again.

"-Shut up, will ya? He's got experience up in the forces and he knows how this Governor thinks. I know he's a hot head and a dumb son of a bitch, but..." Daryl trailed off, looking helplessly at Rick, pleading with him to understand. From the car, Maggie continued to watch as the scene continued- It became heated again, Glenn and Daryl screaming in each other's faces, but Rick intervened, talking solely to Glenn. The scene played out like this for a few more minutes before it seemed to simmer.

"So it's settled, then?" Rick demanded, watching Glenn and Daryl uneasily, "Merle's coming back with us."

Daryl nodded coldly, joined after a quivering pause by Glenn, eyes dark. He glanced over at his brother, who had spent the last few electrolysed minutes of deciding his fate with thw bayonet of his prosthetic stabbed into the nearest tree.

"Hey, lil' bro, look at this," Merle called, acting as though his fate hadn't just been decided for him- he stepped back with open hands in embrace of his creation. _'DIXON' _was carved clumsily into the tree he'd been working on, a crude crossbow and what was supposedly meant to be a carving of his bayonet buried into the surface.

"The Dixon Brothers, immortal," he shook proudly, moving over to his brother- a gesture which made Glenn tense a little. Merle ignored this, allowing his non-weaponized arm to fall over the winged shoulders of Daryl.

From back inside the car, Maggie continued to watch as Daryl, his brother and Rick moved over to the second car, followed by the assassin like Michonne. The four of them climbed inside the vehicle, and the engine revved up threateningly and with a gloomy expression, Glenn opened the door with a face of thunder and collapsed into the driver's seat.

"He's coming with us," he spat to Maggie, "I can't believe..."

Glenn let his words fall beneath the wheels of the vehicle and kick started the car, following out after the vehicle in front as they headed back to the prison.

**~oOo~**

About halfway home, the car Rick was driving began to run low on gas- in their search the group ended up on the abandoned highway where they had first lost little Sophia, back when they had been overrun by their first herd. Michonne ran her blade through a lumbering walker, lost amongst the baron world, ending its futile existence with barely any effort at all as Rick bent over the faucet of a carrier van. As he finished working on the nozzle, a surprisingly human sound came from within the abandoned vehicle. Michonne looked over at Rick, and he nodded. She thrust the blood-ridden Katana blade between the van doors and they opened up willingly; Rick pulled one rusted door fully open and Michonne prepared to take a swing, but no walker made its way forwards. Instead, a shaken-looking girl stood up at the back, adrenaline sparking off her like effervescence, causing her legs to tremble; she was stood defensively with a rusty crowbar braced in one hand, the other held out as though to defend herself. Realizing she wasn't faced with the dead, she gave a rushed sigh and visibly relaxed; though the crowbar, still tight in her grip, remained raised.

"What'cha doing in here?" Rick barked at her.

"I- I don't know-"

"You _'don't know'_?"

"Just.. hiding," the girl lisped quickly, unable to believe that she's come across other humans, "from those- those things."

Rick nodded. "Anyone with you?"

She looked left and right, not knowing which answer would be more to her benefit. Realizing there was only one option- telling the truth- she affirmed, "Just me."

Rick shook his head from side to side, looking back towards Michonne in search of support. "How long you been in there?"

"Three days," she told him. "The place I was at got overrun-"

"-You got any food with you?"

The girl tensed at this- clearly she knew the threat other humans now posed. She considered lying for a second, but then saw the corner of a packet of food sticking out from underneath her limited supplies and quivered, "not much."

Michonne looked to Rick uneasily.

Glenn wandered over, staring absent-mindedly back at Maggie, who was stood beside one of the cars they'd brought holding the newly-filled can of gas, staring at nothing with a smouldering expression. God, he was worried about her. Carol sat within the car, her head in her hands; clearly coming back here was stirring bad memories. Glenn looked around as he moved towards the others, and sure enough, there it was; the car with the white message scrawled across its front.

_SOPHIA STAY HERE_

_WE WILL COME EVERY DAY_

Discreetly Glenn removed the small amount of supplies they'd left on the car's hood and placed them inside the bag on his shoulder, including a jar of peanut butter, a flashlight, several cans and bottles of water. It felt wrong somehow, but they needed all the supplies they could get at the moment.

"Rick, we got it the gas," Glenn said as he reached the others. "If we're gonna get to Woodbury-"

He looked inside the van and his mouth hung open. He glanced at Rick, and could see by his expression he'd made up his mind.

"Who is she?" Glenn asked, wiping his hand back across the wound underneath his nose, which was still giving way to blood prior to the attack he'd suffered at the hands- _well, hand_- of Daryl's brother.

"I'm Laurel," the girl piped up, moving forwards a little in the van. Rick gave her a warning look and she backed off. Glenn looked at the girl- she looked harmless enough, and certainly more weary of them than they were of her.

"We're not gonna... leave her out here, are we?" Glenn asked, looking to Rick. Their leader looked left and right down the abandoned road, then growled huskily, "It's not safe to bring more people in, you know that. Our supplies are low and..." His sentence trailed off as she fought an inward battle. Get to Daryl, get back. That was the plan. But this... this was unexpected, a fork in the road.

"She's just a kid," Glenn said to Rick quietly, turning from the girl and Michonne, "If we leave her out here- she's all alone, she ain't gonna last long."

Rick rubbed his head in his hand. "I ain't riskin'-"

Maggie was walking over. She'd seen a figure in that van, deep in the shadows._ A Walker that was stuck somehow? What were they all doing?!_ They needed to get back to the prison quickly , before there were any repercussions from that... _that man._

Glenn stopped trying to convince Rick as Maggie approached- she handed him the gas cannon and walked waif-like past them all, up inside the van upon seeing the girl. Maggie stood there a moment, not moving, and the girl looked uneasily at her- then, very slowly at first, Maggie moved forwards and put her arms around the girl, shaking. The three of them watched the scene as though through crystalline glass- it was confusing, strange. It made no sense to neither Rick, Michonne or Glenn, nor to the girl they had discovered. But they all knew what it meant. Glenn turned his gaze to Rick, waiting for him to react. Eventually the sheriff sighed, hands on his worn hips. He directed a hand inside the van, looking somewhere into the ground, still in disbelief.

"Blind-fold her."

"Wait, what?!" the girl said quickly, stepping back from Maggie and standing a little defensively- Rick looked at her and said,

"Do you want to come with us, or stay out here by yourself?"

"I... I don't know," she galled quickly, "I don't know you people, you could be cannibals or-"

"Cannibals?!" Glenn said quickly, "what kind of people have you been hanging around with?!"

"...Dead ones," she answered, looking to the floor with a sudden pained expression. "You... you hear things."

Glenn looked to Rick again, and shrugged his shoulders.

"We gotta blindfold you," Rick explained to the girl, "we don't know you either, remember- don't want you seeing our camp before we decide you can stay or not, you could have a group or..." he thought suddenly of Randall and sighed, "we've made mistakes before. We will not be making them again. Now you can accept the hand we're offering you, or you can stay out here- makes no odds to us if you choose to stay out here and die. But we have a safe place, good people... If you want it, you can have that, too."

The girl seemed to struggle inwardly for a moment longer, then gave a slow nod.

"Alright."

Merle sat out in the back of the car, his hand caught up over the back of his head as he squinted out of the window to try and see what the hell was going on out there. The group were on their way back now, Officer Friendly and the china kid with his girl, that black woman and... who the hell was that? They had a girl with them, blindfolded, tall and dirty blonde, being lead along by Rick's hand pressing down hard on his shoulder.

"Damn, little brother," Merle said as he noted the girl moving forwards with the group, "check that out."

Daryl peered up over his car door and tried to decipher who the new figure was.

"She ain't one of ours," Daryl told Merle, "she musta bee hidin' out... guess she's comin' with us."

"Well, I ain't complanin'," Merle smirked, rolling down the window and blowing out a wolf whistle. Glenn glared at him as they got closer and Merle threw him a wink. Maggie hooked the girls arm and pulled her down into the back of the second car, closing the doors so neither of them would have to listen to the onslaught of arguing that was sure to come.

Once the two were freed from the scenario, Glenn found he was unable to hold his disdain any longer- he turned to Rick and hissed,

"Are you really gonna have him sleeping in the same place as Beth?" He then turned to Daryl and eyed him coldly. "...as _Carol?"_

"He ain't no _rapist!"_ Daryl cried out in disgust, standing up from his perch over the car door, and Glenn retorted,

"Yeah, well, his buddy sure is, we've all seen that-!"

"They ain't buddy's no more, not after the son' bitch petted us against each other last night. Now you get this straight, _Sunny Jim,_ me an' my brother might not have had all the stuff same as you college educated bronks, but if we got one thing between the pair of us, it's respect for women-!"

"Hey!" Merle interrupted, pointing over at the car where they'd put the girl, "how's about you send your new blonde friend over here to show us some of that good old-fashioned affection you people supposedly got, huh?!"

Daryl's face froze a little, a hand drawing up to his face in embarrassment- he hissed something at Merle who gave a breathy laugh and bit onto his knuckle. Glenn seethed another flash of abuse in Merle's direction, and Daryl talked him down hotly.

"Oh yeah, Chopsticks, why don't ya come down here and try your chances sayin' that to my face?!" Merle screamed over, slapping an arm on the half-wound widow. "You just wait till we get back, I'll teach your ching-chong ass a lesson you won't soon forget-"

"He's Korean," Daryl muttered, "now do yourself a favour and shut your damn mouth, Merle."

"Like I care which way his eyes slant, t's all the same to me... tell y' what, Not-So-Mellow Yellow, send Blondie stead- I recon she'd be more entertaining than you anyhow. What'cha recon on that, sweetheart?" Merle said in the direction of the car. The girl couldn't hear or see what was going on, so it was clear to everyone but Glenn that Merle was treading this path simply to get a rise out of him. Merle turned his head and winked at his brother. "Show her a bit of the 'ol Dixon magic?"

Glenn made to move forward, but Rick managed to grab hold of him- Daryl's face showed his disdain for the way Merle was showing himself to the others.

"Don't look like she'd get none from little Darlena here," Merle continued, "poor kid, he's frigid as a starfish out of water."

Daryl chose to block out his brothers words, and took a moment to flex his back. The long fabric wings printed into his jacket rippled a little, his crossbow shifting along his shoulder blades.

"You gonna let him talk like that?!" Glenn spat, outraged, to Daryl and Rick.

"He don't mean it, he's just tryin' to get to ya, can't you see?!"

"Oh, I do mean it, lil' brother," Merle called, "she's the finest piece of ass I've seen in quite some time."

"What, all head and shoulders of her?" Daryl said, ready to hit his brother himself. Merle shrugged with a smile, concentrating hard on the lines of his bark-based masterpiece.

"'Kay, maybe it's just wishful thinkin'. Get her back outta that car, get the blindfold of her face and I'll tell you what I really think."

"Just shut your mouth," Glenn hissed. Rick shook his head; Glenn didn't even know this girl they'd brought along, but Merle managed to make everything personal regardless. Maggie shot a death glare at the man from inside the car.

"What's going on?" the girl asked a little nervously, on edge from not being able to see.

"Nothing much," Maggie lied, "just- Daryl's brother. He's making a scene."

"...Daryl-?"

"-Oh, right. Daryl, he's one of ours... well, you'll see him later, I suppose."

The girl nodded. "Can I take this thing off my face yet?"

"Sorry," Maggie told her, "Rick doesn't want you knowing the route to our place."

She thought for a minute the girl might ask why- she didn't want to have to tell her it was due to Rick's paranoia that she might have a group somewhere, just ready to spring on the prison the moment she was out. Didn't want her finding her way back encase they decided they didn't like her and were gonna drive her straight back out of the prison gates and leave her in a field somewhere with a can of beans and a flashlight... because that plan had worked so well with Randall.

"I'm Laurel," the girl finally tried, a gentle smile bruising her thin lips. She needed a drink- Maggie recognized this by the dryness of her voice and handed her one of the canteens they'd brought with them.

"Here," she said, placing it in her hands.

"Oh- thanks," the girl said unsurely, fingering the bottle as to decipher what it was. She gave it a little shake and determined it contained liquid. "What is it?"

"Just water."

Still a little unsure, the girl took a tiny sip. "Thank you," she chimed again. "haven't had a drink in a couple of days now."

"No problem," the older woman smiled. "I'm Maggie, by the way."

"Hi Maggie," she greeted lightly.

"Always nice to have more girls around the place. You'll get on well with Beth, I bet."

"Beth?" Laurel asked, and Maggie smiled a little at the thought of her angelic sibling.

"My sister," Maggie added, then remembered nothing was official yet- Rick could still change his mind. No point getting anyone's hopes up.

"Not cannibals, then," the girl muttered with a smile.

"No, not cannibals," Maggie smiled.

Maggie noticed Glenn turn back to the red car and begin to skulk towards it. Before he reached them, Maggie murmured to the girl they'd found.

"Whatever happens, just... stay away from Merle Dixon."

Glenn snapped open the door of the cat and turned the key roughly in the ignition. The engine groaned into life, and the survivors cursed their way back through the dust of the bitter road.

**~oOo~**

"Hey there, good lookin'!" Merle Dixon cried, falling to his knees before the head of the motorcycle and kissing it gently, "oh, Daddy's missed you, you cruel son of a bitch..."

The rest of the group clambered from the cars just inside of the prison gates as Rick pulled the last fence shut, then began to lead the girl they'd found on the highway up inside C Block steps, a little rougher than probably need be. Maggie watched from a distance- Glenn tried to catch up with her, but she had slipped in through the metal grill of the gates before he could reach her. He went in after her with a sigh; in the doorway, Maggie met Carol.

"Is everyone lright?" Carol tried, wrapping her arms around the girl, "who was that girl who just went past?"  
"Her name's Laurel," Maggie explained, "we found her up on the highway, all alone." Carol nodded. "How old is she?"

"Seventeen," Maggie told her, "must have been hard, being all alone... no idea how long she was out there, but it can't have been too long. She seems nice." Maggie paused a moment before adding in a dry tone, "Daryl's brother's back."

"What?" Carol said in surprise, remembering Merle from back in Atlanta. "Thought we'd seen the back of Merle after that roof thing," Carol mumbled absent-mindedly. She had a bad feeling about the way this might turn out. "Merle Dixon- racist, sexist, neo-nazi drug dealer... and user, I wouldn't be surprised. At least that's the Merle Dixon I know."

"Times don't change much," Maggie muttered and Carol nodded, remembering back to the early days just outside Atlanta, when she was still with her vicious husband... she could barely bring herself to think his name. _Ed,_ she forced herself, _Ed Peletier. Your husband._ She looked out at Daryl, his angsty posture and swirl of dark hair and sunk into thought.2

Maggie wandered onwards and Glenn followed through after her- she had become so distant since they'd made it out of Woodbury. Michonne slipped inside after him, giving a quick glance at the Dixon's, Merle still on his knees before the hawg as though it were some shining idol, talking to it in a slurred, thick voice. His wide fingers rubbed at the paintwork, trying to plaster down what appeared to be a Schutzstaffel symbol, beside a vibrant red logo which read _'SSMC_'. The two stood alone in the courtyard for quite some time before Carol appeared down the steps and drifted to where Daryl stood; she touched his back with spider-web fingers and he flinched a little.

"Hey," she whispered lightly. He nodded, lips flinching at the corners into a vague smile. "I'm glad to see you all back safe."

"Thanks," he replied in a black drawl, but he was distracted by the presence of his brother. "You seen that new kid yet?" Daryl asked absently, "Rick's still got her blindfolded, I think."

"Her name's Laurel," Carol smiled at him, "Maggie's just told be about her as she came in." Carol folded her arms over her chest and rocked a little, feeling queasy. "Only seventeen. Seems harmless, I recon she'll be sticking around... I hope she will." Carol looked down at the mass that was Daryl's brother, still crooning over the motorcycle. "Glad to see you're alright, as well, Merle."

Merle turned his head a little, a coy smile on his lips but opted to say nothing- he waved at her with his bladed arm and she raised her eyebrows in surprise. Carol touched Daryl's bare arm again, then swept herself away inside the cell block.

"Has Darlena been taking good care of you?" Merle mock-whispered to the bike a couple of seconds after Carol had disappeared, "...no? Cuz if he hasn't, I'm gonna tan his lily ass..."

"I been lookin' after you're bike just fine," Daryl replied in an annoyed tone, hands in his pockets. Prying to drag out his teasing, Merle replied,

"Like she was your own?"

"She _was _my own," Daryl moaned, "until you decided to make her _yours-"_

"Oh, the stickers, right?" Merle laughed with a thick growl, picking the edge of one of the white-supremacist logos rubbed against the dark paintwork, "well, you got a fair deal for her, huh?"

"What,_ $200 bucks?_ You call that much a fair deal when you and your bitch-ass friends ran her up the walls on your skit-runs? You, sendin' that Ash kid round and round on it in circles droppin' off your gear to every dick wad with a taste for grass?"

"I dealt in better than grass, kiddo. They came to me for their crystal, top-quality stuff shipped in all the way from 'Querque. Blue, but still... clear as day. Besides, it weren't like that- only once or twice. That Ash prick was a useless son of a bitch anyway, never used to turn up- I had to beat his ass a good few times for missin' pick-ups. And I wouldn't call them friends, neither. I don't got _friends._"

"Yeah," Daryl acknowledged as soon as the others had dispersed, "well it ain't gonna be like that anymore. Soon as we get in those doors, you make the right impression, y'hear? These people are a good bunch, nothin' like the scum-bags you've been hangin' around with. They'll treat you right if you treat them right, simple as that. Hell, if you're real decent could even talk Glenn around in to gettin' on with ya."

"What, the midget China kid?"

"Korean-"

"Yeah, yeah. Ain't gon' be no talkin' him nowhere, lil' bro. He's straight made up his mind about me, and the both of us know it. Don't blame him, neither."

There was a long, drawn-out pause, and the sun began to stretch a burnt rose-orange across the thickening sky.

"What happened out there?" Daryl asked, the question that'd been ripping at the back of his brain since he'd found it all out. "'Tween you and Glenn and-"

"I didn't do nothin' to her if that's what you're thinkin'," Merle seethed, watching the gates glow in the sunset, "I know you think you're big brother's a psycho son of a bitch, but don't you dare... I didn't even touch her, and if she tries to suggest I did I swear to whoever's listenin'-"

"I- I know you wouldn't do somethin' like that. You talk the talk sometimes though, man- what you were saying about that girl in the car earlier- uh, Laurel-"

"Laurel? That her name?"

"-Yeah. That wasn't on, man. Not cool. And she's just a kid- only seventeen."

"Don't bullshit me, you little-"

"She looks older. Man... you're lucky I managed to get Rick and Glenn to even let you come here after all that shit back there. Callin' all that and the_ 'Merle magic'_ stuff. Doesn't look good for ya, does it?"

"Didn't mean nothin' by it. Just my way of tryin' to rile 'em up, y'know? Liven things up a bit-"

"I know that, but they don't- I have to live with you being a dumb-ass son' bitch but they _won't._ They don't have to deal with your shit."

"You watch how you're talkin' bout our Ma, boy, or I'll wring that throat out with soap and Jesus."

Daryl shrugged his shoulders, smacked a hand at the back of his neck as a critter buzzed by.

"Damn 'scitos," he muttered, and another surged gently through the smoggy evening air, tiny gnats dancing about the tops of the fences. Another flew close by Daryl and he swatted at it with his hand; It shimmied into Merle's space and the older Dixon mimicked the action with his prosthetic.

"So what'd you do to Glenn?" Daryl asked, stirring the conversation back into more dangerous waters. Merle tensed a little, and Daryl got to thinking he might actually be feelin' a little ashamed of himself.

"I pinned him up, threw a couple punches his way, s'all. Put a Biter-"

"-A Biter?!"

"That's what I said, ain't it, you ain't deaf! ...Yeah, I threw one at him, but I done worse." Merle looked down for a second, his voice a little cracked. "I done a hella lot worse to other guys."

He trailed off and Daryl suddenly felt awkward- it was the same uncomfortable feeling that had overcome him when Beth had hugged him after she'd told him they'd lost Carol; the same feeling as when Carol had kissed him on the head back at the farm. He felt- _exposed,_ because Merle didn't run out of words, not ever. Hell, if you could get him to shut his damn face at all it was a down right miracle. Merle not talking was like the sun not setting.

"You comin' in?" Daryl asked quickly as he stood up, unable to cope with the silence any longer. Merle watched his back a moment as he went over to the motorcycle, wiping his finger over some smudge of dirt obscuring the glassy surface of the front light. The shine of those damn wings on his little brother's back was blinding.

"You go ahead," Merle drawled, looking up into the sky to avoid the glare. "I'll be right on in."

"Yeah, well when you do, don't you talk to no one till I'm in that room with ya," Daryl instructed, imagining in his head all the things that'd go wrong if his brother decided to open that big mouth of his.

"Don't you worry, lil' brother," the older Dixon smiled, his voice going all quiet. "I won't say a word."

Merle pressed a finger to his lips and kept his cold eyes watching the furnished sky.

**_AN: _****Why Hello there! Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of 'Imprisoned'! Though this chapter is a little slow, I can promise you it gets better (well, in my opinion at least ;D) High-five if you got the breaking bad reference.**

**Until next time, and please leave a review if you've enjoyed the story thusfar!**

**All the best,**

**Wizadora x**


	2. Chapter 2: Outcasts

_**AN: **__**ooh, i like gettin' mean with Merle's character. He's so fun to write.**_

**Chapter Three:**

**Blood and Water**

Carl had been sat outside the cell for quite a while now; the girl that his dad had brought back hadn't moved in some time except for twiddling her fingers and picking at her short fingernails. He could see she was quite tall for a girl, with dry hair, a dark gold colour that ran in messy, detangled curls all around her shoulders. She wore it pulled into two bunches either side of her head and Carl could tell that her bangs must be tickling her face because she kept tucking them away behind her ear- either that, or she was nervous.

"Carl?" Beth whispered, stood to the side of the cell. He felt a little jolt in his stomach then quickly looked over at her, eyes hooded. She grabbed hold of his shirt sleeve and pulled him over a little closer.

"Stop... _staring,_" she whispered. "It's rude."

"Why is it? It's not like she can see me-"

"Maybe not, but she isn't _deaf!"_

Beth herself took the opportunity to glance into the cell where the new girl was- she looked to be about her age, maybe a little older. She was definitely bigger, regardless. Beth noted that her own clothes were a little more run-down than this girls- she was wearing dirty white-wash blue jeans and a thick, sleeveless brown leather vest with a dark blue top underneath that she'd rolled up to her elbows. Beth couldn't really see her face because of the blindfold, but could tell she was nervous as she kept running her tongue over her lips. Beth wandered if she was scared; she knew she would be if it was her, not being able to see in a place full of people she didn't know. Heck, for all this girl knew, they could all be cannibals- Beth had heard stories like that from Jimmy back at the farm; he'd said that, when things got worse and food got scarce, it wouldn't be the walkers you'd have to worry about anymore. Beth thought of the Governor, of that little town Woodbury, and thought to herself; _he's right._ She just looked at Carl for a minute, not knowing what to say.

Carl moved swiftly out of the way as metal clanging began to sweep up the stairs to the second floor where they stood; when it stopped, his dad walked up onto the balcony, Daryl not far behind with his crossbow slung lazily up on his shoulder; Rick pulled out a key from his pocket.

"Could you go downstairs a minute?" Rick asked, running a hand over the thick lines of stress on his forehead.

The two of them made themselves scarce quick enough, and Rick gave Daryl a small nod before working the key into the lock. He saw the girl jolt a little with nervous surprise, edging back onto the bunk slightly as his footsteps entered, accompanied by Daryl's lighter, more agile steps. She still wore the blindfold regardless of the fact her hands were untied, which Rick read as a sign; it meant that she was scared and, at least for now, prone to doing as she was told. _Good,_ he thought.

Rick knelt down in front of her. She shifted a little uneasily, pulling her legs in closer to her as Rick spoke.

"Your name's Laurel, is that right?"

She nodded her head lightly.

Rick didn't really know what to do with her- he'd wanted her gone, that was for sure; the more people here, the more there were to look out for, the quicker the supplies would run out... the downfalls were endless. But Glenn had been right, she _was_ just a kid. He didn't want no more blood on his hands, not unless it was the Governors.

"How did you end up alone in that van?" He asked her, a little kinder than he'd spoken before.

"Can I take this blindfold off-?"

Quickly Rick pushed the thing down around her neck, watching as she blinked at the dim light for a second. She tried a smile at him, then at Daryl, but neither gave her anything reassuring back.

"Where are we?"

"I'll be asking the questions for now- you just sit tight and answer 'em for me, okay?"

Feeling a little threatened by this, the girl rolled her shoulders back into place and waited patiently, carefully nodding her head.

"How'd you end up in that van?"

She looked solemnly at the floor. "There was a group of us, living out in this supermarket we'd geared up at the start of all this- been living there since, but then we got attacked."

"How?"

"...Someone didn't lock the fore-gates properly- they got in, and that was that. I was the only one who got out."

_She seems legitimate,_ Rick thought. Harmless, he supposed- if an eye was kept firmly on her for a little while, if she knew full well leaving wasn't an option- maybe this could just about work. The girl watched him nervously, and eventually he sought Daryl's advice. His friend shrugged, an expression that read,

_It's your call._

All of them stayed quiet until Rick eventually concluded;

"You'll stay in here tonight. Maybe tomorrow, too. Then you can meet the rest of the group, and if they like you- well, I guess you can stay."

She nodded her head and Rick got up.

"Thank you," she whispered as the two men left the cell.

"Don't thank me yet," Rick murmured back at her, wiping a hand over his forehead. As they descended the stairs, Rick turned to Daryl for some affirmation that he'd made the right decision.

"Not my call," Daryl said dismissively; Rick could never understand how he was so passive, so distant all of the time. Rick chose not to argue with him over whose call it was, instead just asking, "but what would _you_ do?"

Daryl looked thoughtful a moment, and the two stopped near the bottom of the stairs so that the others wouldn't have earshot of their conversation.

"She's gonna die out there," he reasoned, arm up against the bridge of the wall. "Ain't no two ways about it. she'd survive another couple days at most, I reckon. Givin' her food and sendin' her packing ain't no honorable thing when we know it's same as killing her straight."

Rick nodded; just as he was about to reply, Axel's head appeared from around near the door.

"Uh, Rick?" he called awkwardly, feeling asthough he was definitely interrupting something, "there's some big fella out here, goin' right crazy. Kicking up a fuss, you follow me?"

"'Some fella?'" Rick asked, Making for the door; Daryl put a hand on his shoulder, cursing under his breath.

"Yeah, ugly-lookin' bastard with one arm-"

"My brother," Daryl interrupted hotly, and Axel pulled a face which suggested an apology.

"I'll go sort him out," Daryl offered, and Rick gave a curt nod before Daryl jogged over and followed Axel out.

Rick considered following his friend to assist the group in dealing with whatever bullshit Merle was starting. He held his head in his hand a secnd, then slowly and unwillingly began his journey outside.

**~oOo~**

"Beth!" Herschel yammered quickly from across the yard, realizing they were going to need a few more capable hands if this were to be dealt with properly, "go get Rick, now!"

The little blonde gave a sign of acknowledgement then ran through back into the cell block, cheeks flushed as she called out, "Rick?!"

Rick pumped in to her on his way out as she ran through.

"What is it?" he said, holding her shoulders reassuringly.

"It's Daryl's brother, he's got Glenn and we're gonna need your help-"

"Shit!" Rick hissed, kicking himself into action- e spurred out through the doors faster than Beth could find her own way, and as he burst out into the concrete yard, his heart jumped.

"Hey!" Rick roared, stampeding forwards through the middle of the group- the older Dixon was up on the balcony of the left guard tower, one good hand holding on to the front of Glenn's shirt front as he held him half-over the balcony rail, his bladed hand pinned up against Glenn's neck as he screamed down into his face. Maggie and Daryl were up in the opposite tower, Maggie's arms hitting out at Daryl as she wrestled with him for her gun; he flung it out over the fence where it landed close to a walker who might once have been wearing a paramedic's uniform. The two screamed indistinguishably at each other before Maggie pushed him and found her way back to the staircase- Daryl shot after her, but by the time he reached the foot of the stairs she was already halfway across the court yard- Daryl heaved a sigh of relief as Rick grabbed her by the arms and struggled to console her.

"Calm down, Maggie- calm down!"

She didn't seem able to hear him, and only screamed up at Merle, who was laughing raucously at Glenn as he fought to escape.

"Get down here!" Daryl screamed up to his brother, who either he couldn't hear or didn't want to.

"Get her inside," Rick called to Herschel, and he, Beth and Axel proceed to try and force Maggie back into the C block.

"Daryl-"

Daryl spun his head round at the mention of his name and found that Carol was stood there, looking determined to help but obviously not sure what to do. Hell, he didn't know what to do either- never did, especially with Merle.

"Go on in," Rick advised her, "they're gonna need you in there."

Carol nodded and made her way back inside, where Maggie's roars could still be heard.

"Let's go get 'I'm," Daryl demanded, finding his way to the foot of the stairs and heading on up. Rick followed close behind, almost unable to believe he'd ever agreed to allow a scumbag like Merle Dixon anywhere near this place, thir home- of course it wasn't going to work- _how could it ever work?!_

They came out at the top of the guard tower, a little across from Merle and Glenn.

"Well, How-dy, partner," Merle said mockingly to Rick, as he crushed Glenn's legs a little further against the hilts of the rails.

"Get him offa me!" Glenn cried, pushing with all his might back against Merle, but on sheer size alone there was no chance of him moving the man.

"Careful there, China," Merle said down to him, "all that wrigglin' around ain't gonna do you no good- my hand's gettin' mighty tired up here, and you gotta remember I only got the one..." he loosened his grip a little on the front of Glenn's shirt and he gave an involuntary screech- Merle laughed voraciously and tilted Glenn even further off the balcony's edge.

"Put 'im down, Merle!" Daryl snapped, grabbing the back of his brothers shirt. Merle shrugged him off then cooed, "speakin' of hands, fancy lendin' me one, little brother? Kinda difficult punching this sack-of-shit kid in the face when I gotta hold him off this balcony too- you see, our little Chink friend here thought it a swell idea to come on up here to tell me I oughta slip out of here while I still can... guess he hasn't learnt that Dixons stick together no matter the weather. By the looks of it, I'm not the one who'll be doin' the slippin'..."

He lunged forward a little more and Glenn was suspended almost completely by only Merle's singular grip.

"Rick!" Glenn shouted-

"Your boyfriend can't save you now, little gu,-" Merle taunted as Glenn croaked, "how bout them there Walkers?" He taunted, nodding down to the beasts below, "you reckon they got a taste for Chinese Takeaway?"

"Enough," Rick ordered sharply.

"Oh, boo hoo," Merle mocked, "what ya gonna do, arrest me? Heh. We're already in prison 'case you hadn't noticed, Sunshine, and do you see any Screws around coming to give you a hand?"

Rick exhaled deeply, bringing the hilt of his gun up into the base of Merle's neck- the man turned a little, hiding his minute surprise well.

"Oh, I see how it is. _Big man. _Go ahead, officer friendly," he smiled, "your yellow friend 'll only become a Walker's meal if you do."

Rick cocked the gun, and Merle laughed again; Daryl glanced quickly at Rick,who gave him the same look back.

"They'll kick us both out if you don't stop this shit," Daryl said coldly.

"Oh, they'd never get rid of you, lil' brother. You're the Sheriff's favorite pet- ain't he, DC Dickhead?"

"Don't matter," Daryl hollered, ignoring his brother's taunts, "you know if you go I go too, that's the way it is."

"Then I best drop this China-man right now," Merle concluded, "cuz I sure as hell don't wanna stick around this place. Biters lookin' at ya day and night sizin' up which part of ya looks most delicious, stuck behind bars and with our old pal the Governor on his way in here any day now? We don't need this shit! We're meant to be out there-" Merle gestured to the trees around- "eating whatever we can kill and killing whatever's lookin' to eat! We can _survive_ out there, Darlena- we can leave, right now!"

Daryl stared at the back of his head, an inward struggle clearly being fought within him; Rick watched cautiously, ready to pounce should Merle make any sudden movements. Daryl blinked harshly, then seemed to squeeze the words out.

"I don't wanna leave," he said, hitching his crossbow a little higher up on his shoulder.

Merle was quiet for a few seconds- hell, so was Glenn, so was everyone. Then, slowly, Merle hoisted Glenn back over to the safety of the rail. Glenn stumbled over to the other open end of the tower, shaking considerably- then, with a sudden infuriated rage he span around and lunged at the man- both Daryl and Rick instinctively took hold of him, and Glenn flayed under their arms for a few solid minutes before exhaustion at his ordeal overcame him and he visibly deflated. Merle watched him with a wry smile the entire time; then, as Rick began to guide the stricken Glenn to the stairway, he blew the Korean man a mock kiss- this seemed to give Glenn a burst of rage-filled energy, but soon enough it was containable again. Rick didn't even look at the two Dixons.

"Stay up here," he said in a dull, monotonous tone, and Daryl couldn't distinguish who he meant. Rick managed to reach the bottom of the stairs with Glenn still moderately composed, be it from pure exhaustion if nothing else.

Daryl, stricken with disappointment by the whole ordeal, slowly turned to his brother.

"Why have you gotta do that?" He spat, "Every time? Go and ruin everything?"

Merle eyed him coldly, ice against the heat of the earth. "You think these people will ever trust you now? We could'a- I had something good here, Merle. Something _real_. But no, you have to go and fuck it all up, don't ya?" Daryl spat over the rail of the balcony.

"You had what?" Merle said in a mocking tone, "couple of pussies and cripples who'll do nothing but drag you down when the time comes? How many of them can hold their own, huh? That one-legged farmer and his two girls, you think they're gonna hold up if the Governor decides to run his way through these gates? You think that woman who hangs off you like a-"

"-Don't you talk shit about her," Daryl spat.

Merle looked blankly a second, then shook his head. "This can't be what I'm thinkin' here. You ain't tellin' me you got a thing goin' for battered up housewives now, have ya?!"

Daryl winced inwardly a little, then groaned, "I've got it here. I've got a_ family-"_

"_I'm_ your damn family-!"

"-And you sure as shit ain't gonna ruin it just because you can't control that ragged-ass temper of yours!"

"Now you listen here, little brother," Merle seethed in a hushed voice, dulcet tones coming up thick through his accent. He forced down some emotion coming up inside him that he didn't wanna think about, and filtered it through to rage as he took hold of his little brother's face in his hand and leaned right on in, skin against skin. "I'm the only family you ever gon' have, you hear that? These- _people-_ they ain't nothin' to you, y'hear? They don't care about you. Not like _I_ do. Not like old Merle. And you know why?" Merle manually shook his brother's head for him. "It's because you ain't nothin' to them but a squirrel-munchin' piece of redneck garbage Dictator Grimes managed to slap a heart onto, that's all. You ain't nothing but shit on the bottom of his shoes, that's how he sees ya... that's ho they all see ya, and that ain't never gonna change. When the tables turn, they'll cast you out like the Leper you are, you hear me?"

Merle nodded his head for his little brother and concluded, "Good."

Daryl managed to pull himself away, and found he was weaning his way down the metal steps. He went as quickly as he could, blocking out whatever it was Merle was trying to call out after him. He wasn't going back into the C block, that was for sure. Hell, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to face them all again. Shit, what was happening to him? few months back he'd a just said screw 'em- but he felt- he felt like this place was his. like he needed to be here, with these people, and with Merle here too. _Shit._

He decided he'd go round through the next gate over, up into the guard tower in the block they'd cleared for Axel's group before they'd all been done in. He'd go up there and he'd sit in the quiet and he'd wax up the crossbow and just think on nothing at all.

_You ain't nothing but shit on the bottom of his shoes, that's how he sees ya._

_Redneck garbage._

_They'll cast you out like the Leper you are._

...Just think on nothing.

**~oOo~**

_**AN: oh Merle, you old scoundrel you. Every word I write about Daryl makes me want to hug him.**_

_******thanks for the reviews and follows/etc guys!**_


	3. Chapter 3: Haunting

**AN: Just a note for you guys- If you're a new reader- this is where the prelude teaser was taken from- you'd have already read part of this chapter one, so don't worry, it's not an error XD Hope you enjoy this chapter, where Laurel and Merle officially meet! :3**

**Chapter Four:**

**Haunting**

"You pile of cock-suckers!" Merle roared obscenely, fighting hard against the four survivors fighting to haul him up through the cell block. They had decided not to allow Glenn to get involved- regardless, he had disappeared out on watch- and as Michonne was near unconsciousness in one of the cells being tended to by Herschel, they had concluded on asking Maggie; she wasn't all too happy to oblige at the start, instead suggesting they take him outside rather than in, but had eventually come around to the idea of locking him up in a cell, at least just for the night.

It had taken a lot of convincing on Ricks part, but Daryl had eventually agreed that slamming his brother up, at least for tonight, was the best thing for everyone after the stunt he'd pulled with Glenn less than two hours ago.

Rick and Daryl wrangled with one of his arms each, Rick being particularly careful of the bladed one he was restraining, as Maggie and Axel forced him forwards from behind. Getting him up the stairs proved to be near impossible, but it was decided earlier that it would be worth the hassle just to have his hollering a little further from where they were sleeping.

"You bitch-faced, barber-quartet faggots!" Merle roared as they escalated the final step, "I swear to God, the second I get you pussies offa me I'm gonna shove all your heads up each others asses and make you sing the hokey-cokey backwards till your lungs give out!"

"Creative," Axel acknowledged, genuinely impressed.

"You do not have to say anything," Rick mocked malevolently as he found the key to the empty cell and pushed it into the lock, "but anything you do say may be given in evidence-"

"Man, I'm gonna kill your ass-!"

"-In accordance to the law of the state of Georgia."

Merle was thrown inside and quickly reared up against the bars like a wild animal, and Rick tightened the lock as quickly as possible then drew back. The others had already began to return downstairs, clearly unhappy with the atmosphere on the upper level.

"Night night," Rick snarled, then disappeared his own way back to the downstairs level.

"This is startin' to become a pattern with you, Sheriff! Y'all can't just leave me up here! Get back here, you cock-sucker! -Daryl! get me outta this fucking cell 'fore I "

Rick ignored him, and made his way back down the stairs after the others. Daryl promptly vanished again. Rick gave a sigh, realizing he still hadn't addressed the problem of this bunch of people Herschel had acquired whilst he's been gone. Beth was sat down with Judith, and he made his way over to her and lifted her tiny body into his arms. He placed a kiss on her tiny forehead and, like everyone else, focused on not hearing Maggie's sniffled cries from a few cells over. Everyone had an idea of what must of happened, but no-one- not even Beth or Glenn- had been brave enough to address the issue as of yet. He thought of going in to her, but he was too afraid, like everyone else, to confront her tears. Rick handed the baby back to Beth as Herschel came over.

"Michonne's sleeping," he told Rick.

"How long before she can leave?" Rick asked uneasily.

"She has concussion... a couple of days at least, I should think."

Rick rubbed his temples- this couldn't be happening.

"Rick-"

"I know," Rick said, making his way through to where the four new people were being kept. They were headed by a tall man whom Herschel had informed him was called Tyreese, and there were three others. Rick looked in on them and Tyreese stood. He held out his hand and introduced himself. Rick gave no response. Rick seemed more interested in how the group had found their way inside than whether or not they would be allowed to stay.

The rest of the group filed in behind Rick cautiously, all but Daryl. Beth stood near the exit, rocking Judy gently, and was surprised to see Maggie move in beside her, hard-faced and red-eyed.

"We wouldn't be any trouble," Sasha piped up, addressing Rick, "we'll look after our own."

"Won't be no trouble," Tyreese added. "We'll go out and get our own food, and we'll help out any way we can. Anything to contribute."

Rick turned to the others. All of them looked at this new group with expressions of approval, of welcome. He closed his eyes so he didn't have to see them.

It couldn't be done. Axel, Michonne, the girl they'd found, Daryl's brother and now these four? It was too much. That was eight more mouths to feed, to worry about. Even with Michonne gone when she had recovered, it would be impossible. It couldn't happen. Too much of a risk.

"No," Rick said finally.

Everyone looked at him with expressions of shock, from both sides.

"Rick-"

"No. We've been through this. I won't take the responsibility, not again."

Herschel tried to talk him out of his decision, but Rick was adamant He'd tried to trust, to forgive, he really had. He'd tried to see the good in people, and the harder he looked, the more he found there wasn't any left. This life- this world- sapped up the humanity and turned good people, mothers and fathers and children, into Merle Dixons' and Thomas Richards' and... Governors.

Ricks heart leapt out of his body as he looked up; There she was, stood up there on that balcony in her wedding dress, all her perfection and all her imperfection, the holiest of angels and the blackest of sinners. Watching him as she always was. She'd always be watching, judging every decision he ever made.

"No, no..."

But she was still there. Always there, always disapproving, always wanting more than he could give her.

_You're dead, Lori,_ Rick told her in his head. _You're dead._

But still she watched.

"Get out," Rick told her, screamed it at her like she could ever possibly understand, "I can't help you, get out!"

The group watched, horrified, as Rick began to cry. Carl couldn't understand why this was happening, and it scared him. He felt himself backing away.

Rick pulled his gun, and Beth took Judith out. She tried to beckon Carl with her, but he wouldn't come.

Tyreese and his group fled out of the back door.

The group stared at Rick as he dropped the gun. He sat down at one of the tables and slumped. Maggie watched silently; she thought of going over to him, but she was too afraid, like everyone else, to confront his tears.

**~oOo~**

Merle's clenched fist riled itself between the bars as he attempted to free himself; after a couple more vain attempts of shaking loose the bars, then his bladed arm began to grind fruitlessly against the metal.

From the opposite cell, the girl watched the scene. There'd been a lot of commotion from down stairs not too long after this person had been pushed into the cell opposite her. It was dark up in their corner, so she couldn't see much, nothing except his one hand and what must have been a knife sawing against the bars. Ten minutes went by this way, with this man sawing at his iron cage asthough he genuinely expected to be freed by his en-devours. Laurel found herself laughing, and attempted to repress it.

The light noise brushed against Merle as he cursed and hacked away at the metal pole; he stopped for a second, then looked around for it's source. He saw her profile, buried away in the darkness of the parallel cell. It was the girl they'd had blindfolded in the car- must of been, why else would they have her locked up like that? Lauren or Lorna or Laura or... something like that.

"What'cha laughin' at, candy pants?!" Merle growled eventually, flicking out his wrist as to relieve some of the tension. As he did, the metal of his arm chinked with a vibrato, like it was just as pissed off with the world as he was.

"Nothin'," she replied cautiously, moving a little further back so that the shadows would protect her more. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Merle huffed and went back to sawing at the cage.

"That isn't gonna work," Laurel advised after a few minutes.

"Not if you keep blaggin' down my ears it ain't," Merle snapped. He kept at it for a few more seconds then finally gave up- he pulled back from the bars and collapsed on the bottom bunk of his cell.

"I'm Laurel," the girl said after a few seconds.

"I know," he groaned back, "and i'm Merle."

He hoped that would sate her enough that she'd shut up and maybe then he could some shut-eye before he'd have to deal with all the shit Rick and his little Chinese friend were gonna be flinging at him tomorrow.

"Oh," Laurel answered quickly, sounding a little surprised; she linked the name to the person Maggie had warned her about earlier in the car and went quiet again.

Merle creased his brow, sinking a little lower into the worn mattress.

"They been talking shit about me already?" He said, not in the least bit surprised.

"No," she tried quickly to reassure him, "just someone said in the car on the way here that you were-"

"A thick-skinned redneck son of a bitch who you should never ever try to make conversation with?"

"...someone's brother."

She went quiet then- he was quite certain he'd been successful in scaring her off. He was gonna leave her subdued to the silence and perhaps try for 40 winks, but heck, what else had he to do? He wasn't that tired, and he sure as shit weren't going nowhere. May as well talk to this kid- he just hoped she wasn't a ditz and might have something half-interesting to run her mouth about.

"I'm Daryl's brother," he affirmed, easing her back into the conversation best he knew how. "I inherited all the good genes, he got the leftovers, 'case you were wonderin'. You met him yet?"

"...I- I've met a couple of people, but I can't put names to faces yet," she said, a little cautiously still.

"He's the dumb-looking kid; doesn't say much, doesn't move much. Socially retarded, you might call him. Needs a shave, a haircut and a good meal. Follows our Lord and Master Grimes around like a lost puppy. Treats his crossbow better than most'd treat their woman."

A picture formed in her mind of the rugged-looking one who'd been stood in the cell with the group's leader earlier, but who hasn't said a word. She guessed it might be him, and though she felt a little awkward saying it, she asked, "he got light-ish brown hair, wears a poncho thing?"

"That'd be the one."

Laurel smiled a little. An awkward silence fell over her end, and she substantiated that she had no idea what to say. A horrible grating metallic sound rang through the cell block as Merle idly scraped his blade across the rough concrete wall beside his bed. It had come loose in his haste to saw his way out; that combined with all the trouble at Woodbury had made it so he thought it might fall right off. Laurel gripped her teeth, pinching her eyes shut as the sound rang through her bones.

"So where you from?" She asked eventually, thinking it an appropriate way to keep the conversation going, though it was clear from his thick Southern drawl that he hadn't strayed far from home since this Apocalypse thing had started.

"I'm from here," he confirmed, and for a minute she was unsure if he meant Georgia or the prison itself. "Up North way a little, round by the mountains."

"Nice up there?"

"You bet your ass it was." He closed his eyes, taking in his memories of that place. "Didn't much care for it when I was up there, but hell, I'll be damned if I wouldn't go right back in time."

He remembered being out round by the Rockies again, then closed the memory off. "How'd you get round these parts? You don't sound local to me, kiddo."

"I was only supposed to be up here for a couple of weeks," Laurel told him. "Just a conference and a couple of other things for my school stuff; I didn't even wanna go, really, but my best friends were going and I didn't want to spend two weeks in class by myself. Stupid, really. When this all started, it was few days before we were supposed to go home- we tried to get back but they put all the transport on lock-down, remember?"

"Sweetheart, time this all started I was so high on Bath Salts I couldn't tell my ass from my face."

All went quiet. Eventually Merle prompted, "go on."

"Oh- yeah. Well, we couldn't get out so the school took us back to the Hotel we'd been staying in, but they'd shut their doors and left- that same day it really went wild. I don't remember much of it; me and my friend hitch-hiked a lift with this guy, Darren. Ended up staying with him and his parents, several miles outside the city."

Laurel went on to tell him how they'd lost her friend not long after, and how they'd been forced to leave the house; after a while she stopped mid-sentence, realizing she hadn't heard anything of the man in the opposite cell in a while. She waited, seeing if he'd beckon her to go on, but nothing came.

"You awake?" She asked quietly, but was met with silence.

"...Merle?"

He didn't reply. She shrugged and found her way under the scratchy covers of the hard mattress. He was probably faking not hearing her, anyway.

With a sound mind and a safe bed, Laurel pulled the blanket high up over her head and allowed her mind to wander as she was captured by the slow, lurching call of sleep.

**AN: Casually writing in canon events so it makes logical sense- ****sorry for the shortness of this one guys. I did have the chapters split differently, but ending this one at the end of the day makes more sense than what i was originally intending *derp***

**i'm deffo enjoying writing this, so if you're enjoying reading it, we'll continue :) Thanks for the reviews, guys, i really appreciate them; if you have any questions, feel free to ask. Until next time, enjoy doing stuff n' thaaaannnnnggggssss! R&R! :P**


	4. Chapter 4: Blaspheme

_**AN: In which there is lots of background, and Carol x Daryl**_

**Chapter Five: **

**Blaspheme**

The next morning Merle was reluctant to open his eyes. He hadn't felt tired night before, but now it seemed the sleepless hours making their way out of Woodbury had finally caught up with him. He made to sit up, and as he did, he felt something sharp nick his leg through the combat trousers he was wearing.

_Shit, _he thought, looking down to find the source and seeing that he'd slept with his bayonet still attached.

"Could have offed myself," he slurred, pushing himself up off the bed and holding his head in his hand for a while, staring dully at the grey wall. The chrome sink stood motionless to his side, and he churned over to it, twisting the nob with little hope, almost purely to mimic routine. Felt just like being back in the slammer.

"Well I'll be damned," he said in bemusement, as a daft little spring of water danced into his one hand. It looked a bit grimy, but heck, there were worse things you could have on yer face. He patted the icy liquid over his pores and let out a yawn as he drew his hand up over his mouth. As he turned, he looked over through the bars and could see the top of that girl's head, lay out on a white pillow as she slept. They'd been talking last night, he remembered. About what? Fuck knows. He remembered her tellin' him her name- Laura... no, Laur- Laurel? Yeah, that was it. And then she was askin' about home and she was telling him about summer camp or some shit like that he couldn't give two shots about. Couldn't really remember nothing apart from that- must have bored him to sleep.

Merle moved a little nearer to the bars of the cell. He put his hand up against them and looked a little closer to her- he could see the view a lot better from here. Still couldn't see her face cuz her arm was thrown over it, her mouth hanging open a little. She was breathing in and out all heavy like, lay out on her side with her head tilted back and up to the ceiling, and to hell if that thin sheet didn't show all her curves.

_Seventeen,_ he thought idly, shaking his head a little._ Ain't life a bitch._

A gentle rattling from the far end of the block began to ascend the stairs, and not too long after Rick Grimes appeared in all his monochrome glory.

"Well well," Merle said, hand now tickling the bars, ready to clock this dick head in the jaw the second he opened the door. "If it ain't good-old Warden Weasel."

Rick stood before the cell, watching Merle with an expression of puzzlement. He still couldn't quite believe they'd taken this piece of shit in. Heck, if it wasn't for Daryl, he'd shoot him himself.

"Come to let me out, Partner?" Merle mused, tapping at the lock of the cell with the tip of his blade. "Gettin' awful lonely cooped up in here with no-one to keep me company other than that little sleeping angel over there."

Rick glanced back at the girl, blissfully unaware as she sighed in her sleep.

"You can take that thing off for a start," Rick instructed, fiddling with the keys in his hand.

"This thing here's my Baby, Rick," Merle cooed, stroking the blade with the tip of his calloused finger. it wobbled a little and he grimaced. "Besides, I'm the one at a disadvantage- you know, just the one hand and all. Seems only fair we balance it out with a little reinforcement, don'tcha think, Orderly?"

"You ain't leaving that cell till that thing's outta my sight," Rick growled, and Merle coyly hid his forearm behind his back.

Rick turned from him; it was the girl he'd come to see, not this jack ass.

'Rise and shine, sweet-cheeks," Merle called out, recognizing Ricks meaning, "officer friendly wants a word in your lugholes."

Laurel was pretty much unresponsive; she let out another little shuddery sigh and it was clear she wasn't yet awake.

"Darlin'?" Said Merle teasingly, and Rick side-glanced at him distastefully. "Nah, Sheriff- she's all tuckered out."

"Yeah, well you just leave her alone. I'll be back up here when she's awake."

"Do me a solid and send my brother up here, will ya?" Merle asked, retreating back into his cell. "Need to remind him what family means."

Rick considered a minute.

"I'll tell him you were asking of him, but I ain't promising he'll come."

"Appreciate it."

With that, Rick took off back down the flimsy metal steps. About half way down he saw Daryl- he was sat up on top of the watchmen's nest, legs folded up in front of him whilst he picked at his finger nails with his front teeth. He was in one of those moods he went in when he'd had enough of just about everything and everyone.

"Daryl," Rick called, and his hand drew back into his lap the second he heard his name.

"Your brother's asking for you."

"Let him ask," Daryl responded, lying back on the roof. Everyone but he seemed to be treading on hot coals around him- Daryl hadn't been there last night, so he hadn't seen him flip out at Tyreese's group, and his mood meant no-one was up to going to talk to him about it. Rick he knew Glenn was out there by himself. Rick nodded, then made his way out through the front door to check the perimeter.

As Rick walked past, Carol gave him a small nod, weary of how to conduct herself around him now. There had been concerns after Lori's death, of course, but now there was tangible proof of his instability. Carol swung her head outside of the cell in search of Daryl- she could see his boots sticking out over the edge of the Orderly's coop and a slight expression of worry set in her worn features. He was never exactly a team player, but she hadn't seen him this withdrawn in quite some time. It had to have something to do with that crazy brother of his. With Rick like this and Glenn still reeling from Woodbury and Merle, now was certainly not the time for one of Daryl's strops.

"So what's she like?" Beth asked quietly, trying not to disturb her father, who was reading scripture to Axel in the opposite cell.

"Let's find out," Carol replied, lifting the rucksack they'd found the girl with up into her lap. She loosened the string and she and Beth began to empty it's contents.

"Seems a bit wrong, going through her stuff," Beth said a little uncomfortably.

"Yeah, but Rick wants it done," Carol replied. If it'll give him peace of mind, it'll be worth it."

There was more in the backpack than she'd expected- strange things as well as useful. So far she'd found two travel-sized packets of kid's cereal, a half-empty bottle of carbonated energy drink, a mini screwdriver, a retractable blade, a cell phone which had long been drained of battery and a studded wallet. Carol opened it up to find there was $20 in it, not that anyone would be interested in that; the zip pocket had a handful of coins in it- some American, some in foreign currency- and when she opened up the side pocket she discovered an out of date library card, a handful of receipts for cheap retail stores and fast food restaurants, and pushed snug right up at the back was a crumpled photograph of a smiling, curly-haired couple and their child of about five. Carol guessed this might have been the girl when she was younger, or perhaps a little sister. Either way, these people had once been family. Sadness peppered the air and Carol felt a wrenching tug somewhere in her that she had difficulty explaining.

"Why would she keep her cell?" Beth asked.

"Hope, I guess," offered Carol, giving an immaterial smile. From her position behind Beth, Maggie snorted.

They were all worried about her. She'd become incredibly reclusive since they'd got her back- she wouldn't talk to anyone about Woodbury, not even Glenn. She seemed to resent him for whatever had happened there; but at least she'd stopped crying.

"Hebrews chapter thirteen, verse five," read Herschel, _"be content with what you have, for he has said, 'I will never leave you nor forsake you.'"_

Maggie gave a thick laugh and threw her head back.

"Maggie?" Herschel asked blandly, worried for his daughter, and her eyes locked onto his.

"Enough, Daddy," Maggie said to him, eyes closed and smiling. "Not one of the scriptures in the good book are gonna help us now."

"Maggie," Herschel drawled disappointingly, "do not blaspheme in this-"

"Where was the good Lord when ma died, huh, Dad?!" Maggie continued scornfully, "When the farm got overrun, when we lost Jimmy and Otis and Carol's little girl, Lori and T-Dog and everyone else? Where was he when Glenn and I got took by Daryl's bastard brother, when-?!"

She stopped mid-sentence and a black, mournful expression sunk rapidly into her attractive features. All that was alive in her seemed to drift somewhere above her head before drooping back into her body, at which point she was suddenly overcome with exhaustion and lay herself down on the bed. Everyone allowed silence to flood the room and soothe their troubled souls, as Beth placed the items slowly back in the bag and the ruffle of aged biblical pages resumed quietly back in Herschel's cell.

Carol decided someone needed to speak with Daryl- tell him what happened with Rick whilst he was off sulking. She slipped out of the cell and the icy cold which had cast over it, and crawled up the stairs. She stood looking up at the watch nest; he hadn't realized she was there yet. Or maybe he was just ignoring her.

"Daryl." No reply.

"Daryl," she repeated, a little thicker this time, asthough she were rebuking an unruly schoolboy.

"Wha'?"

Carol rolled her eyes to herself; nice to see that he was in such a dark mood that he had lost even the ability to enunciate.

"You okay up there?"

"Hmm."

_Not really the reply I was looking for,_ she thought, but accepted it all the same.

"I thought you should know- Rick had a funny turn last night, while you were... well."

Daryl didn't seem all to keen on hearing an elaboration.

"Started shouting his head off at that group Carl and Herschel found," she continued, "pulled a gun out on them and made them leave. Then he-"

She decided not to indulge the story of Rick crying upon Daryl- she wasn't sure why, but she didn't think Daryl would appreciate it. She didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable.

"Glenn's gone off on a tangent," Carol told him, "he's still pissed off about your brother, I think."

"Well wha'dya expect me to do, kick him out on the curb?!" Daryl snapped, hating that Merle had to be his responsibility. "He's my family and he's the only one I got, I ain't just gonna-"

"No-one said anything about making Merle leave," Carol soothed, trying to calm him, "it's just- we need you. Now, Daryl. You can't afford to be like this, not now, not with the Governor on our doorstep threatening to kill us all."

"Screw the Governor!" Daryl boomed, slamming his hand down on the side of the roof. To hell if he was gonna look at her, either.

Carol didn't know what to do with him; he was in his own little world, spinning around and around in a cycle of angst and hate like a hamster in a laundry machine.

"I just think you should talk to Merle," Carol told him. "See if you can calm him down, get him to realize the world isn't against him."

"It ain't the world that's against him," Daryl hissed, flicking a finger in the direction of the rest of the group. "It's them lot."

"We can change that," Carol told him consolingly.

"Merle's about as welcome here as a fart in an elevator," Daryl coughed, "Should have known never have come back here in the first place. Shoulda seen it was a bad idea. I shoulda just gone off with him, just the two of us, like he said."

"Don't say that," Carol pleaded sadly.

Daryl squirmed a little where he lay, head back and watching the grey ceiling.

"S' always just gonna be me and him at the end of it all."

"We'll get the others to understand," Carol called, "we'll make them understand that he's valuable."

_"Valuable?" _Daryl grunted, "only thing valuable about Merle's the fillings in his teeth."

"Look," Carol persisted, "If he straightens his head and pulls his finger out, he'll be a valuable member of the group. You know that, don't you?"

He didn't respond.

"You'll talk to him, won't you?" Carol asked, "...for me?"

Daryl just picked at his nails and replied with a guttural grunt. Carol nodded to herself, wondering if the efforts she'd made would have any effect. She looked up to the row of cells where she knew Merle and that girl were being kept, hoping Daryl would take heed of her advice. Carol slipped away into the dust of the prison, and Daryl folded his arms, hoping maybe that way the world would just piss off and leave him alone for once.

**AN: See you next chapter, bros and hoes (except not hoes- i'm sure you're all wonderfully respectable individuals :)**


	5. Chapter 5: Lessons

_**AN: In which Laurel reveals her back story to Merle**_

**Chapter Six:**

**Home**

She still hadn't woken up yet. She was sprawled out now, having chucked off the cover of the bed, and was lying face-down against the pillow. Every now and then she'd been giving out a little sigh, or rubbing some of that blonde fuzz away from her face as it tickled her. Merle had sat himself down on the end of his bed now and was just watching her, and thinking. Thinking about the Sheriff and the Asian kid and all the rest of them, and trying his damn hardest not to think about his little brother.

_Speak of the devil._

Daryl was slouching up the corridor with a face like a slapped arse over to his cell.

"So Sheriff Rick did send you my condolences, what a mighty fine Christian he is. You gonna let me out now or what, little brother? What the hell kinda shit were you pullin' last night, helping that group of cock suckers haul my ass up here? Lockin' your own brother up like i'm some kinda animal. Family's all we got in this world, or didn't you hear a word I said to ya yesterday?"

"I need to talk to ya. I ain't come to let you out."

"In which case, why don't you piss off back downstairs and get back to sucking Rick's dick or whatever it is you do around here and let me enjoy the quiet."

Daryl flared his nostrils up at Merle and went on, "I ain't _wantin'_ to talk to ya, but Carol says I gotta set you straight and-"

"What, you takin' orders from a woman now? Pledging your allegiance to the all-mighty Ricktator not enough for your kiss-ass? Who cut your balls off while I was gone?"

"Shut up," Daryl scolded him. "I've come up here to talk some sense into ya, but we both know that ain't gonna happen so just sit your ass down, shut your face and at least pretend to listen for once in your damn life."

Mildly amused by his brothers outburst, Merle gave Daryl a mock salute and crouched back down on the edge of his bed.

Daryl, surprised that he'd managed to subdue his brother for a few seconds, gathered his bearings then started, "Look at yourself. You gotta try and see it from everyone else's point of view. Imagine if you were Rick-"

"Oh I've tried seeing matters from that bastard's viewpoint, but so far I can't get my head that far up my own ass."

"Listen, will ya?! Everyone just thinks your a useless son of a bitch."

"That what you think as well, little brother?"

"Oh I don't think it, I know it."

"Watch your trap, boy, or i'll take ya to the cleaners."

"What, from behind those bars?"

Merle laughed coolly. "You think I give a crap about what these people think about me?!"

"Listen! They all think your useless and not just that, they think you're dangerous, too. Hanging Glenn off the balcony, way you've been talkin' to people..."

"Yeah, well I am dangerous, and these people'd do best to remember that."

Daryl let Carol's words fall into his mouth. "The world ain't against ya. You gotta show these people that you're valuable, otherwise we're both out on our asses here."

"I don't want to stay," Merle hisseid, up in Daryl's face now as he spat each word, "let me out of this cage and let's ditch this sorry bunch of Fuckers. The one-eyed bandit's comin', ain't no doubt about that. When he does, all these people..." He drew his weaponized arm lightly across his throat and made the accompanying noise.

"I ain't leavin' em," Daryl told his brother, shaking his head.

"Didn't love 'em all so much when we were gonna hang 'em out on their asses and jump camp back in Atlanta," Merle reminded him. "what happen, d'ya balls drop off and you suddenly realized playing happy families with old Hickery-dickery-dock down there and his band of merry men was just what you've been searching for? That ain't the Dixon way, boy, you know it ain't."

"you gotta give this place a chance. For both of us."

Merle's brow tightened and he swung his head from left to right, arm up against the bars. As he was thinking on his brothers words, a slow yawn stretched over from the opposite cell.

Daryl looked over his shoulder; he'd forgot about the girl. She sat up, her back facing them, and he looked away instinctively.

"Mornin', Sunshine," Merle called with a smirk, watching as she stretched her arms up behind her back. Daryl gave him a look like he was up to something and Merle cocked his head a little, asthough trying to plead innocence. He glanced over at her again and heard a couple of the bones in her neck click as she rolled her head from side to side.

"Good morning," she replied instantaneously, as another shrill yawn slipped from her lips, though she still wasn't properly awake and had said it automatically as opposed to with full cognitive recognition of where she was or who she was with. She blinked about a few seconds, gaining her bearings of the place, and started to recall the events of yesterday. The cell was a lighter grey than it had been in the darkness and somehow seemed friendlier.

"You sleep well?" Merle asked her, and Daryl knitted his eyebrows a little.

"Oh, just fine," she said, stretching out turning round to face her conversationalist with just a little anticipation.

Merle looked at her dazed face as she swung her head around. She wasn't as pretty as he'd first thought- having only seen her in the dark or with a blindfold or an arm covering her face- but she was still a sweet thing, that was for sure. Her half-closed eyes looked to be a funny sort of grey-blue colour, and she gave him a neat, polite little smile that made her whole visage brighten up.

Laurel proceeded to pull the bands holding her ponytails loose from her head. He certainly wasn't what she'd been expecting- _had _she been expecting something? If she had, she wasn't sure what her mind had cooked up, but it certainly wasn't the reality. He was tall and thickly built, older than she'd imagined and Jesus, he looked like a mean piece of work. She could see the power in his chest and arms, thinly veiled by a worn-looking wife-beater vest. And- _holy crap,_ he had a hand missing. Some sort of big, ugly-looking contraption was fixed onto the end of the break that made her think of a more menacing version of Captain Hook- perhaps if he'd been fixed on Assassination or in very high temper. The blade looked loose, though, and when he motioned her a little wave with it, the knife jolted to the side. Laurel felt something inside her jolt with it- she was certainly was no longer surprised by the warning bestowed upon her on the way here. He was imposing to say the least, and it was clear by his face, with those cold-drilled eyes, that he knew it. She responded to this revelation with the innate reply she'd formulated to all ambiguous situations- a clear, bright smile and a flash of teeth. He gave her a devilish wink and she cringed inwardly, hoping the rouge of embarrassment wouldn't find it's way to her cheeks before she could at least turn to the side. She fluffed out her cloud of hair a little at the roots and it served to mask her face.

Merle chuckled inside. He'd freaked her out at least a little, he could tell. Whether it was his mutation and the subsequent presence of his hand substitute or just himself as a whole he didn't know, but she was for sure flustered in one way or another.

"You gonna let the kid out, Darlena?" Merle prompted his brother, whose social retardation seemed to have set in due to the presence of an individual he wasn't accustomed to.

"I don't carry the keys," Daryl explained with a shrug, not wanting to admit to Merle that he didn't want to act on anything like that without Rick's approval.

"Go make yourself useful somewhere else then," Merle told him, "the kitchen, maybe. I for one am starving up here. So long, little sister."

Daryl scoffed in annoyance, but didn't seem to have a response. He turned tail and made for the steps, and as he descended them, Merle cried out,

"Run, Forest, run!"

Daryl turned back to his brother and flipped him the bird, then vanished below the field of view of the cell corridor inhabitants.

Laurel was still running her fingers through her hair, trying not to appear immobile.

"So, Cher," Merle drawled at her, sitting back on the end of his cot, "you were tellin' me last night about how you were before this lot caught up with ya."

"Yeah," she noted, yawning absently.

"Well, don't seem much point only telling me half of the story."

"Oh- alright," She smiled a little, still feeling a little uncomfortable from being winked at- he could see he'd affected her cuz her words were coming out all dizzy like, and she was a little pink in the face. He smiled at the thought of making her nervous and the thought crossed his mind half a second, _I still got it. _He shrugged it away with all it's dumbness, thinking to himself that this kid looked the type that got nervous around any new people, never mind a big scary fuck like him. No, the old Dixon charm certainly wasn't playing it's part here.

"Uh- where'd you want me to start?" Laurel asked, pulling her knees up to her chest and facing the wall opposite her.

"Wherever you left off, sweetheart."

"Where do you remember to?" She asked, and then, "I think you fell asleep..."

"Uh," Merle fathomed, trying to think back on it, "...well, to be honest, kid, I don't remember any of it. Start at the start again, why don'tcha?"

Laurel filled him in on all the things he'd missed the night before when she'd started telling her story, then reached the point she'd broke off at last night.

"So you and these four people- your friend, this Darren kid and his ma and pops, and you just- stayed there in that house?"

"Not for long," Laurel told him. "There wasn't a lot of people around the place, but it just wasn't safe enough. Those things would keep walking past- the sick people-"

"Sugar, those things ain't sick, and they sure as hell ain't people. They're just- not even things anymore. Just Walkers."

"I know," she said quietly. "Is that what you call them here, 'Walkers?'"

"Yeah. On with the story, Kiddo."

"Sure. So we all jumped in the truck Darren had and headed out. We ran into this guy called Brent and his wife- but she'd already been bitten. We stayed with them for a couple of days on their ranch before she- y'know. Buried her, then we headed back out on the road. On the way we lost my friend, Violet. She- she took Brent's gun out in the middle of the night and that was it. Straight through the side of her head."

Merle could hear her voice thicken as she said it.

"Sorry to hear it," he said.

"Yeah," Laurel replied, shelling away the tears that swirled on her lower lash-line, "yeah, me too. But it was what she wanted. I even thought I-"

She stopped then, and didn't speak for a long time after that. Merle left her to it, feeling a little sorry for the kid.

"Anyway," Laurel continued suddenly, asthough nothing had happened, "We found this big empty supermarket a few miles out- it had already been looted, a lot of the stuff was gone, but there was still plenty. Only a couple of the- what was it you call them, 'Walkers?'- in there, and we took them out sharpish with a couple of bullets through the head. Ran down the shutters and there you go, we were sorted. There were generators in the back and a water filter thing that was well-stocked- there was the staff toilets and we had plenty of food, obviously, all sorts of great stuff too like magazines and books. And then there were staff uniforms-" she smiled as she said it, then pulled down the zipper on her bodywarmer a little and the supermarket name was emblazoned across her chest.

_Jesus, kid,_ Merle thought. That was practically an invitation, he reasoned. She zipped the leather body warmer back up and carried on.

"And that's where we stayed, didn't go out much, only to check nothing had changed, get some fresh food and water for the filter, that kind of thing. It was- well, I didn't think it was much then, but we were real lucky, I see that now. I don't know how we'd managed to hold it that long, to be honest, but it just felt- safe. And now it's all gone, and so are they."

"They good people?"

"Yeah. They were all good guys."

"-just _guys?"_

"-yeah. Darren's mom- she was sick before it all started. Lung cancer, I think. We couldn't treat it, obviously, but there was a pharmaceutical counter in the store that hadn't been looted at all, so we managed to stop her being in pain. Then one day we got up and she'd passed away in the night. Brent carried the body outside and we buried her."

Merle felt something in him tighten. Kid didn't know then, that people come back whether or not they were bitten. Shit, he sure as hell wasn't gonna be the one to tell her. She'd probably break down or something, knowing there was some old zombie lady writhing around six feet under.

"Her name was Evangeline," Laurel told him, oblivious to the truth. "She was lovely."

"And them guys," Merle said after, "they kept you as their run-around or somethin'?"

It wasn't a phrase she'd heard before, but she guessed his meaning. The idea made her squirm, embarrassed, and she replied quickly,

"No! ...I mean, they were decent guys. Brent- well, there were a couple of times that I had to get him to back off, but apart from that they were all sweet as hell to me. Veau was an old guy, real nice, and Darren was just relieved to be alive for the entire thing, I think, don't think nothin' like that would ever even crossed his mind. They were nice."

Merle shrugged. He couldn't imagine any man not having a go, locked up for a year with a sweet young thing like that dancing about the place.

"How many of em were there?"

"Still just the four of us..."

"No, I meant- the Walkers, when you got overrun."

She froze for a long while, then quietly said, "it wasn't walkers."

Merle looked blankly at her, cold eyes just watching as the light shrunk from her face, before she continued.

"It was a group of them, a big one- thirty or so guys, they said. Only six of 'em came in, just happened to be looking for supplies the day we forgot to close the back shutter down after going out to collect the fresh food- we'd planted a patch out of the seeds in the manky fruit way early on, and it came up great. We... we heard them come in through the warehouse part. They sounded pretty riled, had come in to loot whatever they could find- we could tell just by the sound of them that they weren't friendly. The guys made me stay in the stock room, just long enough for the invaders to have been dealt with and sent on their way. I promised I would, but there was a whole lot of shouting and then a gunshot so of course I went out- they killed them all. Shot Veau in the chest, broke Brent and Darren's necks like it was nothing... one of them grabbed me and they decided to keep me alive..."

Her voice vanished, a wisp on the thin air. She stared ahead blankly, like the words meant nothing to her anymore.

"...There were no women in their group."

Merle felt a little uncomfortable after that. Why the hell was she telling him about- _this?_ Sure, he'd asked her to carry on telling him how she'd ended up here, but- hell. Wasn't this what other women were for, to cry about your girly problems and sync rag cycles with? Couldn't she have saved this part of the story for Daryl's woman or the farmer's girls?

It wasn't just that- he knew some of the stuff that had gone on in the Woodbury raids. He was a bad ass fucker and he knew it- nothing living or dead had managed to phase him yet- but some of the things he'd heard there were just... sick, even in his books. He'd never got in on none of that sorta shit himself- just wasn't right, even he knew that. But he'd definitely seen girls at them raids that for certain hadn't been killed during the attack, but somehow disappeared regardless. Scared girls... young'uns, too, some of them probably only fifteen, maybe even younger than that, being dragged off screaming and crying with cut-up faces into empty houses and patches of the woods by guys who'd turn up alone again once all the supplies had been collected with red faces and one less bullet in their gun. No one ever stood up or did anything about it. It was a sick world this mess had created- the sick getting sicker. He thought of this kid, and the screams of those girls at the raids. the image of the two together made him feel a little sick.

He thought of the Asian kid's girl- the older farmer's daughter. He hadn't touched a hair on her pretty little head- not like _that- _not that anyone bar Daryl seemed to believe him. Heck, he wasn't sure the girl knew herself that he hadn't tried it on her way she'd acted around him thus far. But sure as heck he felt bad about giving her over to that D-bag that was the Governor He didn't know if that son of a bitch had actually done anything her or not- but then again, a woman and a man's perception of _'doing something'_ would probably be very different when the something was like that, he reckoned. All the same, he'd admitted to himself that he regretted it. But then again, if he hadn't taken them in, he'd probably never have found his baby brother again, and for that he'd trek to hell and back twice- heck, thrice- over.

A long time had passed between the two. Merle glanced a little over to the girl, who was staring head-on into the cold light. She looked, he thought, like she'd seen too much bad shit for someone so fresh-faced. Then again, who hadn't? Merle thought of Friendly's hard-faced kid- the one in the Sheriff hat all the time- and nodded to himself. _Sick getting sicker._

"None of them laid a hand on me," Laurel said quietly, breaking the stagnant silence, but it didn't should like she was telling it to him. She stopped again, as though her mind had emptied itself.

"I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "I... I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I don't even know you."

"You know me better than anyone else round here, cell buddy," Merle smiled to her, trying to diffuse the uncomfortable mist that had blurred it's way between the two cells.

"Yeah, I guess I do," she replied with a little smirk.

"C'mon," Merle prompted, and Laurel continued briskly.

"Like I said, they were only a small part of a big group- only six came, but there were, like, thirty all together."

"I've seen bigger," Merle contributed.

"Really?" Laurel called with surprise- it was sad, she thought, that she should have to be shocked by a decent-sized amount of humans co-existing anymore. "How many?"

"72," Merle confirmed. "Well- 71 now."

"So you were with another group?"

"For a long time, 'fore I met up with my brother again."

"And you said you were- Daryl's brother, right?"

"M-hm."

"He seems nice."

"He's a Dixon," Merle rebuked her almost automatically, reeling off yet another of his Pops' old sayings, "Dixons ain't _'nice'_."

Laurel smiled at him, eyes brighter now than they'd been before.

"Well, you don't seem too bad to me."

Merle looked at those eyes for a second, two funny little whirlwinds of blue and grey, and shook his head at her.

"C'mon, girl," he coaxed, "finish tellin' me this Damn story, I ain't gettin' any younger here." He lay his head up against the wall and struggled to adjust his loose blade with his good hand.

"Well," continued Laurel, "four of them pissed off later that day to go and get the rest of their group- they saw how long we'd lasted and decided to move in. The other two tied me up and left me in the warehouse, but they weren't the brightest bunch- I managed to grab some hardware scissors from one of the lower shelves and get out of the ties. When it got darker, I sneaked back through to the main part of the shop and hit the one who was on duty round the back of the head with a display iron."

Merle grinned. "Quite the little bad ass, aren't we?"

"That's one word for it, I suppose," Laurel giggled back lightly. "I'm not ashamed to say it was... gratifying. The other guy was asleep, so I just left him- should have hit him as well, really. I took the keys off his friend, snuck back into the warehouse quickly and got the hell out of there with the emergency escape backpack me and the guys had packed up. I had a gun in it, but we kept the bullets in the main market part so it was useless; I found a crowbar, though, so I took that. It was nearly sunset when I managed to get out."

She started laughing then, shaking her head.

"I ran for a couple of streets, and by some miracle there was no sign of any of the monster things- like I've said before, the place we were at was pretty middle-of-nowhere. I saw a kid's scooter on the lawn of one of the houses-" she started laughing again- "i know it's ridiculous, but that's all there was apart from cars, and I can't drive and haven't got any idea to hot wire one anyway. So I scooted out of that place as fast as I could. I passed a few of those things on the way, but they weren't in threat distance. When I was a good while out, I found an abandoned car and my scooter and I set up in there for the night. Did the same the next day- just scooted along until it started to get dark, at which point I ended up on that highway where Rick and the others found me. I'd been in there three days, and thank God, by some miracle they just happened to be looking for gas."

"You saying that you've never had to kill a Walker?" Merle asked quietly, looking at her with those cold eyes.

Laurel looked back at him, guessed that's the name his people had given the dead things, shaking her head a little. "No, I haven't."

"Never been real close to one, not in this whole time?"

"...No, I guess not."

"Shit girl," Merle guffawed, "you've got a hell of a lot to learn."

"I don't think I really want to learn how to kill stuff," she replied overtly, and Merle shook his head.

"Can't kill what's already dead. 'Sides, that ain't the way the world works now, Darlin'. If you don't kill it, it kills you, or your friend, or your brother, or- well, you get the picture."

Feeling a little sick, Laurel turned her face to him.

"How many have you killed?"

"Jesus, I ain't been keeping a tally, sweets. Loads and loads."

A thought came to Laurel's mind, and she'd asked it before she could even think.

"Could you teach me how to- y'know?" She made a gurgling sound and mimed hacking at an imaginary Walker.

Merle chuckled- he liked this kid. "Yeah, I could teach ya. If these damn bars weren't locking the two of us up, that is."

"Will you?" she asked timidly, tying her hair back into a bun using both bands on the back of her head.

Merle looked at her. Christ, she looked- lost. Yeah- lost, that was the best word for it. Shouldn't be caged up like that.

"Sure," he told her with a smirk. "Soon as they let our asses outta these cells, I'll teach ya."

Laurel gave him a trickle of that gaslight smile.

**AN: thanks for the follows, reviews and faves, guys! I LOVE YOU ALL.**


	6. Chapter 6: House of Cards

_**In which Laurel meets the group for the first time.**_

**Chapter Seven: **

**House of Cards**

Beth made her way cautiously up the steps. In her hands she carried two bowls of what promised to be lumpy porridge, stirred to disappointment with a desperate slither of condensed milk. Two plastic mugs filled with luke-warm water rested in the crook of her elbow. She smiled as she reached the cells.

"Hiya," she smiled in at Laurel, who warmly smiled back. "Got something for you both- you must be starving."

"Sure as hell we are, sweets," Merle drawled at her, beckoning through the bars for his portion- Beth hastily handed it over to him and he took it with a grateful wink and a wry smile.

"I'm Beth," Beth offered quietly to Laurel as she passed her the other bowl, trying to ignore the awkward wink, "you're... Laurel, right?"

"Yeah," Laurel replied a little awkwardly, "thanks, Beth. Are you Maggie's sister?"

"Sure am," Beth chimed lightly.

"Love your necklace."

"Thanks," Beth fingered the two hearts around her neck. "My Ma got it for me ages back." It seemed weird, having a conversation like this- not only through bars, but one about jewelry. The jewelry part seemed too... normal.

"Nice to meet you," Laurel chimed a little late, and the two smiled at each other.

"Yeah, same here..." Beth looked around awkwardly for a second, not at all comfortable in the presence of Daryl's brother and very conscious of the fact that he could see her but she couldn't see him- for some reason, that thought made her fell very uncomfortable. "Look, I gotta get back downstairs- the baby needs feeding- but-"

"Baby?!" said Laurel, a classic expression of shock pouring over her features.

"M-hm, her name's Judy- sometimes we call her little ass-kicker, though," she smiled. "That's the name Daryl chose."

Merle scoffed from his cell. The sound ignited the crisp air and Laurel attempted to wash out the flames with her own words.

"I bet she's gorgeous," she smiled, leaning forwards to Beth on the end of the bed.

"She is. I think Rick said he was gonna bring you out today," Beth told her cheerfully, "then you'll be able to meet her, and everyone else-"

"That invitation get extended to old Merle here, Darlin'? Or don't I get let in on the party?"

Beth was suddenly flustered- she'd been told by the others all about Merle Dixon, and she was more than a little scared of him.

"Uh- I- I'm not sure if Rick mentioned-"

"'Course he didn't," Merle sighed. Beth hovered a moment before saying her good byes and taking flight back down the stairs.

"You alright?" Laurel asked him a few seconds later.

"Right as rain," Merle replied, closing his eyes and letting out a growling sigh.

"...You don't like that Rick much, do you?"

"How'd you figure?" Merle said sarcastically, laying back and facing the wall. Laurel thought of how cold their leader had been up at the start of this all, and the way he'd man-handled her roughly inside. But hell, that was just caution- he'd have been mad to welcome her in with open arms, she figured, regardless of being just one person- and a girl, at that- all on her own. Besides, he'd saved her at the end of the day, brought her into his home, and this Merle, too, she reckoned; he obviously didn't have the approval of all the group seeing as he was being locked up here as well. She was sure Rick must be a good man; either that or a very, very dangerous one. It scared her that she couldn't tell the difference.

This Merle, on the other hand, seemed simple enough. She liked that about him; there were no onion layers like there were with some people, not from what she could guess. He looked the type that wore his insides on his outside and didn't care who shook their head at it. What you saw was what you got with Merle Dixon, she was pretty certain on that. He was big and tough and a trouble-maker, but she guessed that if you were nice to him, he'd be at least civil with you. After all, he'd been nice enough to her, hadn't he? Hell, maybe she'd even managed to make her first friend here.

"You got a good reason to hate him?" She asked, then figured it had come out a bit judgmental and retracted, "sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Jesus, girl, you don't gotta stop apologizing for every other word you say. And yeah, I got good reason... maybe I'll tell you one day."

_Oh yeah, that's one to tell the kids, _he thought. Merle remembered flashes of being chained up on that bastard roof, and that saw, that damn bastard saw, pinching his eyes shut and screaming as he's ripped through his own ruddy skin, snapped his own bone and bit away at the last rough sinews and tendons of muscle, fighting one-handed against that hall full of Walkers and bleeding out as he'd charred the skin over the hob in the store's kitchenette.

"It'll make a hell of a bedtime story, that's for sure."

**~oOo~**

Outside in the prison yard, Glenn forced the end of the blade straight through the eye socket of the grotesque creature before him.

_Twenty-six,_ he counted in his mind, sweat weeping from his pours, as he withdrew the weapon and jogged down to the next beast- It saw him with it's blind milky eyes, and rotated it's head in his direction, clawing clumsily against the bars. _Twenty-seven,_ Glenn charted, slamming it's head in with the knife.

"You gonna do that all day?" Asked Michonne from her space beside the upturned transport van. She'd been up and out for a couple of hours; the concussion hadn't been able to keep her at bay, despite it's best efforts. "Seems pointless," she added as the man went after another Walker.

"Thinning out their ranks means they're less of a risk," manufactured Glenn's tongue mechanically, "the less of them are around the perimeter, the less the risk of one of them finding it's way in. It clears the field out and means it's easier to keep watch- so pointless, no. You wanna see a waste of time? Look over there."

Michonne followed to where the little guy's finger was pointing- she could see Rick Grimes pacing back and forth across one of the further out fields, in front of what looked to be a line of makeshift graves. His hair was ruffled from persistent stressed-out scratching and he kept running his hands back an forth through it. She could see his lips twitching as though in speech, but there was no-one around he could have been engaging in conversation with.

"He's in a bad way," Michonne commented.

"We all are," Glenn told her agitatedly, twisting his saw out of the socket of another monster. A bit of jelly from the ball of the eye, with a fleshy tint of green and stinking of dead, had followed it's path; Glenn flicked it off the blade and into the foot of the grass.

Michonne came nearer and drove her Katana up through the skull of another of the Walkers. This one reminded her of her boyfriend; she drove it in a little deeper before releasing it with a twist and ending the unrighteous existence of the beast.

"I don't need any help," Glenn told the woman, pushing her away as best he could. She didn't seem willing to comply, however, and continued to decapitate the relentless swarm of Walkers around the fence.

"You know Andrea," Glenn noted eventually, submitting to his defeat.

Michonne seemed unwilling to respond.

"Knew," she corrected, then made her way back to the overturned storage van. Glenn watched her go, then bared his back against the sun with a turn to see Hershel coming out of the primary exit of the C block. He hobbled over slowly, a disproving expression creased into his warm features. Glenn avoided his gaze, instead thrusting through the face of another Walker.

"Taking out Walkers all day isn't going to help," Herschel said. "You need to talk it out."

"I've tried," Glenn mused quickly, "you've heard what I've said to Rick about him already, and he just won't-"

"I wasn't talking about Merle Dixon," Hershel interrupted gently. "I was talking about my Maggie."

Colour crept into Glenn's cheeks and he shook his head, putting his killing spree on hold whilst he regained his ability to construct a legitimate sentence. "Maggie won't talk to me."

Herschel frowned, willing him to go on. Glenn turned from him a little, unable to withstand his eye contact.

"I think she hates me. For what happened in Woodbury. She blames me, I know it."

"And you blame Daryl's brother, am I right?"

"Merle, he- he took her to the Governor, it's his fault that..."

Hershel closed his eyes. "Tell me what happened," He almost begged, a resounding harmony of sadness, of pleading, in his voice. It wasn't that he wanted to know, but something inside him plucked at him, screaming out that he _needed _to know. "...Did that man hurt my little girl?"

Glenn shook his head and showed that he didn't know, he just didn't know whether or not the Governor had... God, he couldn't bare to say it, not even in his head.

"Talk to her," Herschel pleaded. "It should be you, Glenn. It_ needs _to be you."

Glenn looked away again, fighting an internal battle. Herschel looked beyond him, leaving him to his thoughts, and saw Rick. He was making his way outside of the complex, out into the trees.

"What's he doing?" Herschel asked, and Glenn replied,

"Dunno. He's been like that since he came out here to check the perimeter, wandering around and talking to himself. He's lost it."

Herschel walked out to Rick, brow filled with concern.

**~oOo~**

"Well," mused Merle, dropping the empty bowl and spoon to the concrete floor, "that tasted of good old fashioned disappointment."

"Better than nothing," Laurel commented, finishing off the last of hers with unrealistic cheer.

"Ever the optimist, huh?"

She gave a cheesy smile which was ever so slightly sarcastic and continued chomping away at the oats she'd been gifted. Merle watched her for a minute, with her silly yellow hair with it's tawny roots and her precocious figure.

"You have any family left?" He asked her out of curiosity, as he looked in the mirror of his cell and tried to decide how best to go about eroding the stubble which had hammered it's way into his jawline.

"I don't know," Laurel said sadly, "Couldn't get in contact from over here, so I haven't heard anything off them since the night we were ran out of that hotel I told you about. I hope they're all right. I miss them."

It went quiet then, and Laurel tried to hide the thought so that it wouldn't cause her to become emotional. She doubted any kind of weakness would be something Merle Dixon felt comfortable having to tolerate, never mind emotional.

He wasn't gonna bullshit her or string her some line about how they were probably housed up somewhere safe, because he knew the chances just as much- well, judging by her concept of post-apocalyptic life, better- than she did.

"How about you?" Laurel asked him, a little sadness still tainting her voice.

"Just me and Daryl now," he said.

"Oh," Laurel whispered. "Sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. That's the way it always was anyway. Our Ma died back when I was only a kid and our Dad- well, Pops wasn't exactly what you'd call a dream father, let's leave it at that."

Through the thicket of silence, Carl emerged, shaded by his father's hat. Keys rattled in his hand as he approached the cells.

"Here we go," Merle said, relieved. "Bout time you let us out, little man."

"You're staying there," Carl told him firmly, jutting the keys into the bars of Laurel's cell. She tried to hide her delight at being released and looked over with confusion at Merle, who was clearly not impressed by being left in the cell.

"Send your daddy up here, kid, so I can have a little talk with him."

"I'm not your errand boy," Carl drawled, ignoring Merle as he eased open the lock, "besides, he's gone."

"What'cha mean, he's gone?"

Carl didn't respond, just stood expectantly outside Laurel's cell.

"You're leaving him up here?" She asked uncomfortably, adjusting the shoulder of her jacket.

Carl shrugged. "You coming or not?"

Laurel nodded her head and took a couple of steps forwards. She looked up at Merle with those funny grey eyes that the world hadn't had a chance to corrupt yet; he had a face on him she could only describe as pissed.

"Um... I guess I'll see you in a bit," she tried, and he nodded his head briskly, not making any attempt to shield her against how riled he was against these people. Laurel gave him a mild little wave as she started to follow the kid down the corridor. Merle watched her go, rubbing the ride of his head with his hand.

"What's your name?" She asked him, in that voice you use when you're talking with little kids.

"Carl," he replied hotly, moving quickly down the staircase. Laurel could tell he wasn't one for conversation already, so didn't try to pick it up as they hit the bottom. She certainly wouldn't be using the baby voice with him again. Hershel was waiting there, lent up against one of his crutches, a warm smile on his aged face.

"I'm Hershel," he offered kindly, leaning awkwardly so that he might shake her hand. She took it graciously, giving him a clean smile.

"Laurel," she told him, and he nodded, regardless of the fact he already knew that.

"Nice to meet you at last. About time for you to meet the rest of the group, don't you think?"

Laurel nodded, a little nervously, and she followed in the step of the one-legged man as she was lead further up the prison. She looked up in wonder at the construct, safe in the knowledge that this was certainly a prison- she'd thought at first it might be a police station or something along those lines. Knowing it was a far larger, hopefully more secure complex made her feel a lot better.

"So how long have you been here?" She asked, observing the rows and rows of little cells, each with their own grey bars, though most of the cells were unlocked and had little signs of living in them- a pile of books in one, a shirt thrown against the cot of another. On the upper level, a line of clothes had been hung over the rail, and they were dripping tiny beads out onto the chalky floor. A broom stood in the corner, it's bristles creeping with cobwebs and specks of dust.

"Oh, long enough," Hershel told her, hobbling forwards through the cells. Laurel heard a thread of chatter from the rooms down the far end and tried hard to tune into their words, anticipation and a little excitement fleeting on her tongue.

"Everybody," said the old man, turning to look inside the two cells he'd neared, "this is Laurel."

Carefully, Laurel stepped by his side and took a look at the inhabitants of the cells. The first contained the girl who'd brought she and Merle breakfast this morning- the two exchanged bright smiles and Herschel formally introduced them.

"I think you already know my daughter, Beth," he noted, then gestured awkwardly to the short-haired woman beside her, "and this is Carol. And up there's my eldest, Maggie." Laurel noted the sadness in his voice as she looked up for the third person, but she could only see a pair of feet raised underneath the covers of the top bunk.

"And over here we have Carl-" Laurel turned to the second cell where the boy, Carl, was now sat on the floor.

The cell was inhabited by one other person- a lanky man with a surplus amount of pale auburn hair and a rather spectacular mustache to go with it.

"And this here's Axel," Herschel concluded. A thought seemed to have escaped his clutches, and he turned finally back down the hall and pointed up in the air.

"Up there's Daryl," he said as an afterthought, and Laurel looked up at the watchmen's tower, where she could see the back of a shaggy dark head adorned with a leather vest which had two broad, dusty fabric wings stitched crudely onto it's surface.

"Weren't there more in the group?" Laurel asked softly, surprised at how small the group now seemed.

"The others are busy," Hershel explained, "Glenn and Rick." He wandered if he ought mention Michonne, but decided against it seeing as the plan was to send her on her way as soon as possible.

"You're forgetting someone, daddy," said Beth, reaching down into the box on the broad table they'd moved into their cell. Judith gave a weak cry, contempt in her slumber, as Beth raised her into her arms.

"This is little Judy."

"Oh my gosh," Laurel breathed; she edged forwards a little and stroked a gentle hand against Judith's face. "She's so tiny!"

Beth adjusted the baby so that Laurel could see her better. Judy's big blue eyes swelled open and she let out a little breath.

"Hello sweetheart," Laurel cooed in a mock voice, "you're gorgeous, aren't you? ...How old is she?"

It was Carol who answered. Laurel recognized her gentle voice from the car.

"And is she-"

"No," Carol said with a cast-off smile, "no, we- we lost her mother, not long back."

"Oh- I'm sorry." Laurel breathed, feeling suddenly asthough the ground would be kinder is swallowing her up.

Carol gave her a small smile, and Beth asked, "d'you wanna hold her?"

"No, it's alright," Laurel answered quickly. In truth, babies terrified her- whenever she touched one she felt the sudden fear that she would be unable to hold on, that their tiny bodies would slip from her gasp and she'd drop them; she was far too nervous to hold her, especially with Judy being so tiny.

They spent the next few hours talking, sitting, and generally existing amongst each-other Laurel talked them through the history of the contents of her backpack, which was laid out in the corner, and they watched and listened intently as though they hadn't already turned the thing inside out.

Daryl jumped down off the top of his perch and poked his head through the door of Hershel's cell later in the day, at which point the older man asked him to go and try to reason with Rick. Daryl shrugged, chewing at his thumbnail.

"She okay?" Daryl asked, nodding at the crib where baby Judy slept.

"She's just fine," Hershel reassured him. The older man took the time to briefly introduce Daryl to Laurel; he turned his head to her and gave her an obligatory nod before quickly moving away in the direction of the outdoors.

"Don't take it personally," Carol told Laurel, "he's not exactly a socialite."

"I know," Laurel smiled, twisting her hair around her fingers. "Merle was telling me earlier."

The room seemed to freeze a moment, and the eyes of all those in the cell flickered upwards. Maggie was rigid. Her covers flew back, she sat bolt upright and quickly descended the ladder of the bunk beds. Beth lowered her head with a sigh as her sister vanished in the direction of the exit.

Laurel watched her go, astounded.

"Did I-?"

"No, no," Carol consoled her. "It's just that- Daryl's brother isn't exactly an easy topic for Maggie at the moment." She said it quietly, asthough not wanting the world to hear.

"So uh-" Axel said, trying to crumble the thick crust of tension. "Anyone for a game of cards?"

Everyone declined, Hershel over his bible, Beth and Carol now singing a whispered rendition of 'twinkle twinkle little star' to the already sleeping baby Judith.

"How about you, Laur?" Axel asked, "fancy your hand against the Rummy Master?"

"Go on, then," she smiled, getting up and moving through to the cell the men were occupying, "I don't really know what I'm doing, though."

"I'll teach you, no worries," Axel stressed, welcoming her to sit down beside him. He moved a little closer and began to place the cards face-down on the table, ready shuffled.

"Only game I really know is Go Fish," Laurel smiled, "became quite the expert at that back at my old place."

"And where was that?"

She told him a little about the supermarket, and he nodded.

"I see," he said, with vibrant interest. "Hang on a sec- right, so with rummy you start off with your ten, and basically all you gotta do is get rid of 'em, you follow me so far?" He shuffled a little closer. "First off you take one from the stock pile..."

**AN: ONE MORE. ONE MORE CHAPTER AND I GET TO RELEASE THE MERLE UPON THE WORLD. *evil villain laugh***

**R&R! :D **


	7. Chapter 7: Torn

_**AN: **__**In which there is Maggie x Glenn, and Merle hunts for drugs**_

**Chapter Eight:**

**Torn**

Maggie had flung herself out of the cell block asthough it were on fire- she needed to get out of sight, and quickly, encase any of them should decide to go after her. The last thing she needed was Beth at her ear, or Carol, or even worse, her Dad. Looking around, she could see the woman Rick had brought back with them, hunched over an upturned truck doing God knows what, and she saw the silhouette of Rick pacing backwards and forwards before the furthest fence, a hand clutching onto his hair- looked asthough he was crying._ Jesus, this place is falling apart._

Quickly, Maggie charged over to the heel of the far right guard tower and began to climb the twisted metal staircase. Two thirds of the way up she felt tears sting her eyes, and heaved a sob as she pushed open the entrance door. Glenn was stood with his arms over the balcony, and turned his head the second the door creaked open. Maggie stopped, backed out with an expression of horror and tried to escape before he could reach her. He flew through the door however, calling her name desperately as he took hold of her arms. She protested angrily, flaying herself about as he struggled to restrain her, feeling utterly helpless.

"Maggie-!"

Her hand flew out and struck the side of his face sharply.

"Get offa me, don't you touch me!" She pushed him roughly away and he backed up in shock, staring at her flaming face as she reared around the room, as far from him as she could be. "You leave me alone," she said, "I don't wanna see you, I don't wanna come nowhere near you, so you just- you just stay over there."

She heaved a heavy sigh and slumped down against the audio control desk, one hand resting on the portable microwave. The coffee machine toppled as she spun around to face the console in order to hide her heavy tears from him.

"Maggie-"

"Shut up."

"You can't-"

Maggie struck out her had to the side in the hope of forcing him to stop. "Leave me!"

Glenn sighed hopelessly. "Maggie, You-"

"No."

"You-"

"No, Glenn!"

"Tell me," He begged her, teeth gritted and unwelcome tears forming in the roots of his ducts, "tell me what happened!"

All was silent; the trees pressed their branches to the mouths of the wind, and the birds silenced their young. The lurching murmurs of the rotting ghouls below became nothing more than a whisper on the fine air, and Maggie slowly turned her head to the man she had given her very self to.

"You wanna know?" She said, almost laughing through her bitter tears. "You wanna know what went down?"

Glenn made no sound, watching her like she was a blinded wild animal ready to unleash it's raw power at the slightest sign of movement.

"That man," she said, voice tantalizingly strong and bubbling like effervescence, "came in that room like we were the best of friends. Told me how it was gonna go down-" she said, bracing her hands against the counter, "my shirt, or your hand. I chose my shirt. Then my bra. then he came up next to me and-" she swallowed, hard. "Got his hand round the back of my neck and bent me over a desk. That's how it went down, Glenn. You happy now?"

She stared at him with a gaze of steel for a long time, then spat, "say it. Say what you mean, or just go."

He looked at the floor and said it in a choked, weak voice.

"Say it!" Maggie spat. "You wanna know so bad, you face up to it like a man and you say what you mean."

"... Did he-" Glenn's voice broke.

"...Rape you?"

Slowly, she shook her head.

"Feel better about yourself now you've got the whole story?"

"Maggie, I..."

"Now get out," she declared, shoving him back as he moved forwards with helpless open arms, "go!"

"I'm sorry, Maggie-"

"You weren't there!" She screamed, giving voice to a thousand broken hearts. "I needed you, and you- weren't- there. So I don't need you now. So go away."

He made another move forwards, and she grabbed a stationary pot from the Warden's desk and flung it at him. It hit the bullet proof glass behind with surprising force and the plastic cracked.

"Go away."

**~oOo~**

"Well, I'll be damned!" Axel cried, shaking his head as Laurel slammed her palm against the table in victory- she'd been awful the first two games, but it seemed three was her lucky number.

"You're gettin' quite the knack for this, ain't ya sweetheart?" He said. Beth had joined in on the second round and had won unanimously, and Axel shook his head. "Beaten by girls twice in a row," he said in mock-shame, patting both girls on the back, "you two 'll be the death of me."

Carol gave him a look like he was the devil, and Axel's eyes widened a little. He hunched inwards a little as a physical sign of understanding.

"We playing again?" Axel asked with a smile, begging to shuffle the deck.

"Actually, I think I'm gonna get off to bed," Laurel said, yawning almost as if on cue and stretching her arms out, "I'm zonked."

"Light weight," Axel teased, nudging her as she stood. "How 'bout you, Beth- ready to try your luck?"

"Maybe tomorrow," the girl said, "Judy'll need feeding pretty soon, and to be honest, I'm pretty shattered too."

"See you all in the morning," Laurel said, slipping sideways out of the cell.

"Where you sleeping?" Beth asked, and Laurel pointed upwards to the stairs. Carl, who hadn't said a word in over an hour, unclipped the set of keys from his belt and Hershel shook his head.

"That won't be necessarily," he said. "Laurel here isn't gonna try starting any mutiny, I'm sure."

Carl gave the newcomer a cold glance and clipped the cell keys back to his belt.

"You can sleep down here," Beth suggested, "there's plenty of empty cells and that."

"No, it's alright," Laurel answered, "I like being upstairs. Goodnight, everyone- again, nice meeting you all."

The group said their good-nights and Laurel made her way back through the dark to the bottom of the stairway. As she approached, she saw Daryl up on the roof of his perch again, and he glanced down at her.

"Night," she said, and he gave his usual dismissive nod of recognition. Walking back up the moaning steps, Laurel could hear sounds like ripping fabric from up ahead. She tensed a little, then called,

"...Merle?"

The tearing continued for a few seconds then silenced.

"Welcome back, sweetheart. How's life on the outside treatin' ya?"

"It's nice down there," Laurel replied. "They're good people."

Merle scoffed a little. Laurel approached his cell and looked in- he had his back facing her, was on the bed on his knees tearing up the mattress on his bed.

"Um... what are you doing?"

He flicked his head to her a second and asked, "hey, sugar, be a doll and do me a favor. Take this-" he turned and handed her the blade from his attachment- "and rip open a couple of the bunks down the isles, check up behind the sinks, too. See if you can find me a hit of something, would ya?"

She didn't get what he meant at first, but it soon clicked.

"I'm not gonna go on a drugs hunt for you, if that's what you mean," she said, shaking her head.

"Oh, come on, don't go all good Samaritan on me," he said, "It's not like I've got a reputation left to tarnish."

"It's not gonna happen," she said determinedly, handing him back his detached arm blade. It was surprisingly heavy and she imagined having to carry it round on the end of your arm all day every day.

Merle looked at her and smiled cockily. "You startin' to care about ol' Merle?"

She smiled back. "Think of it this way," Laurel said, "If it was me asking you, would you let me get off my rocker on meth or whatever you might find hidden away in these cells?"

"You'd be lucky to find old Crystal," he mused.

"Well, would you?"

He gave her a wry smile. She was a live-wire, he'd give her that. "No. But you're just a kid, and a girl at that-"

"And your just a man," she said. "Isn't right for anyone to be rotting their brain-cells. It's not good for you, so don't be a fucking dumbass."

"I like ya girl, but watch your mouth. That kinda talk don't sit pretty with a sweet young thing like you."

Laurel shrugged and pushed the blade a little further through the bars. Merle looked at her with his icy eyes and gave a breathy laugh as he slowly took the blade back from her, accepting defeat. He put it down on the floor.

"Damn thing finally snapped when I ripped open the top bunk. Maybe my knife don't like drugs neither."

"Good," Laurel smirked, slipping back into the cell she'd been accustomed to. "That's what drugs'll get you, a ripped-up mattress and a broken arm... thing."

She flounced before the mirror and pulled her hair down, fanning it out around her shoulders before running her fingers through it carefully, detangling the little knots and twists. A thought came into her mind which she battled with through the next quiet hour. Eventually, as she sat up on the top bunk of her cell's beds picking at her nails with her legs crossed, playing over the different ways she might go about asking it in her mind. Eventually she could bare it no longer and the thought escaped her lips, high and a little squeaky.

"I know it's probably none of my business," she said to him uneasily, sending the question through the darkness between the cell bars. "But- what happened with you and Maggie?"

Merle was quiet. "Your right," he said stiffly, "it ain't none of your business."

Laurel didn't reply, didn't make any sound at all, in fact, and Merle suddenly caught the right end of the stick.

"Oh, Christ, girl, you ain't thinkin' I'm some kind of a rapist?!" He responded, sucking air through his teeth. "I didn't touch her, and don't you believe anyone who tells you otherwise."

"No, I didn't mean-" Laurel interrupted quickly; but what could she say? It was what she'd been thinking, even though she didn't like herself for it.

"I may be a rough bastard," Merle said, "but I ain't no monster. Y'hear me?"

"I- yes, of course. I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, I shouldn't have said anything in the first place."

The quiet drifted back between the cells and Merle closed his eyes and lay back.

"You gotta learn to stop apologizing so much, girl," he told her, settling back down beneath his sheets.

**~oOo~**

**AN:**

**dramatic-sounding title turns out to be about literally tearing stuff. #GENIUS _*puts on hat of shame*_**

**Mrl: CAN I HAZ MATTREZZ DRUGZ PLZ?!**

**Lrl: NO ME GUSTA. **

**^i loved writing that :3**

** R&R or no mattress drugs for you ;D**


	8. Chapter 8: Libertá

_**AN: Hershel has given Merle a key**_

_******Merle is FREE!**_

**Chapter Nine: **

** Libertà**

The next morning the two of them were awoken by Hershel. The old man hobbled up to the cells they were staying in and ran his hand across the bars of Merle's room.

"Unless you're a plate of food or the keys to this damn cell," Merle murmured, eyes still closed, "I suggest you move your ass away from my damn door."

Merle heard Laurel yawning from the parallel cell; she gave a little cough and the unscathed mattress of her bed screamed beneath her.

"Good morning, Hershel," she chirped, and Merle opened his eyes at last. The old farmer was leant up against his cell, looking in on him. He returned Laurel's greeting then gave Merle a nod.

"What's this, Amputees Anonymous?" Merle drawled, glancing down at the space where Hershel's leg ought be. "They putting all us cripples on cell-share now?"

Hershel didn't reply, simply reached down into his pocket.

"You here for a reason, Humphrey Cushion?" Merle asked, fiddling again with the contraption on the end of his arm. Damn knife was gonna go bust any day now. Slowly, Hershel withdrew the keys to the cells; Laurel watched attentively, a little smile springing on her face.

"Well well," Merle drawled, watching the little carved pewter pieces of metal hungrily as they jangled on the chain, "have I served my time? Has our all mighty savior Mr. Grimes finally given the a-okay?"

"I'm... taking the initiative," Hershel answered, fixing the key in the lock; Merle stood, rearing to go, and put his hand around one of the cell bars. Hershel clicked the lock and Merle pushed it open eagerly, stepping outside and breathing in the air asthough he'd been underground for months.

"And the Kracken is awoken," Laurel chided with a smirk, standing up in her own cell and giving him a mock curtsy. She pulled open the grill to her cell door and the two stood before each other for the first time; Jesus, he was even more intimidating face-to-face. She was suddenly very glad she'd managed to get on his good side.

Merle looked at her, all smiles and charm and curves. _Seventeen, _he reminded himself, shaking his head a little. _Ain't life a bitch._

"Pleased to meet you," Laurel chimed with meretricious mirth, holding out her hand on her tip-toes ready for him to shake. He looked at her for a second longer, one eyebrow raised, and she quickly realized the hand she'd offered could only be shaken by the hand Merle was lacking; before she could change hands, embarrassment flushing her cheeks, Merle made a gesture with his knifed arm that she understood- very carefully, the two engaged in a blade-infused high five.

Laurel smiled, then laughed, and Merle found himself joining in. Hershel stood a little off from the two, watching with an uneasy expression. When their laughter had broken, Hershel called to Merle,

"I think it's best if we lay a few ground rules first, don't you?" Merle looked at him with that same raised eyebrow, and the older man continued. "I would advise you avoid Glenn and Maggie; Michonne if she comes in, but I doubt she will. That way we should be able to avoid any... conflicts."

Hershel began to descend the stairs, and Merle followed sharply behind.

"Which one's Glenn?" Laurel asked Merle in a whisper, and he replied,

"Chinese kid. I hung him off a balcony by the scruff of his neck first night I got here."

Laurel, stunned, just stared at the back of Merle's head as he found his way down the steps. Hershel made sure he was a good few steps ahead, despite his disability, in order that he might warn the others. They were all expecting Merle's decent due to Hershel's convincing them it was the right thing to do earlier that morning, those who were still in- everyone but Glenn, Maggie, Rick and Michonne- but that didn't mean they were prepared for it. Daryl was stood up closest to those coming down the stairs, and everyone else was sat in a sort of semi-circle awaiting the introduction of the brute they'd heard so much about.

"There's my baby brother," Merle grinned affectionately as they approached, and he smacked Daryl up the side of the head like a naughty kid. Daryl swatted his hand away in annoyance and rolled his shoulders back, giving his brother a warning look.

"Everyone," Hershel called, taking the lead, "this is Merle."

Axel waved his hand up in the air a little, and Beth's finger's twitched. Carol stayed still, holding the sleeping Judith tight in her arms.

"And a big hello to you folks too," Merle mused, sitting himself down opposite the small group. "Not the chattiest bunch I've come across, I gotta say."

"Where's Carl?" Hershel asked, looking briefly around.

"Not in the cell block," Beth answered, "he left just before you came back down."

"Charming," Merle mused with a roll of his eyes, then put his arms up under his head and stretched back in the seat. "You gonna stand there gawking like a pair of guppies or you gonna sit down?" he said to Daryl and Laurel, both of whom hadn't moved much since Merle's introduction to the others. Laurel took the seat parallel to Merle's and Daryl just shrugged.

"Don't get too comfy," he stated to his brother, "we're going out."

"Out where?" Merle asked, "you wanna swap beauty tips out in the yard or somethin'?"

"Huntin'," Daryl said back to him with a snarl on his face, "thought we'd get us some squirrel-"

"You got a damn obsession with squirrel, boy," Merle hollered over his shoulder, "dream a little bigger- let's find us some veal or venison. Scrap that, I got a feel for Pork tonight."

"And where the hell you suppose we're gonna find a pig, huh?" Daryl asked condescendingly, shaking his head at his older brother. "You gonna keep an eye out in the sky and shoot the first one that comes flyin' past?"

"Have faith, Darlena," Merle taunted, leaning back and smacking his brother in the side, "I'm tellin' ya- all of ya'll- tonight, we're eating like kings."

**~oOo~**

Glenn felt his head lurch against the wall of the guard tower. He hadn't strictly been on watch, but he was happy to cover all the shifts at the moment. He wondered if Maggie had gone back inside or if she'd spent the night up in the opposite tower.

Glenn glanced down at the battle plans he'd drawn up on the floor in chalk. He'd drawn their section of the prison, marked out all the spots that would need protection, and had planned out where they could get the materials; there were several large storage units just off sight- if they could tear one of those up, the aluminium grills would do perfect. Glenn sat for a good hour, planning out who would go where and who would do what. Running a hand through his dark hair, he gave a sigh and stood up, looking out through the glass panel to the balcony below. Rick was still out on the front lands, wandering in and out of the bushes like a man taken by a desert mirage. Glenn could only shake is head, and march downstairs with his battle plans drawn up in his head.

**~oOo~**

Hershel watched as his youngest daughter and the girl Rick had picked up, Laurel, sat besides each other on the small bench, talking about Lord knows what. His eldest was sat in the next cell along, feeding baby Judith on the advice of Beth, and Carol had disappeared away to find Daryl. There was no time for dawdling about, Hershel knew that as well as the others. But no-one seemed able to drive themselves to action as of yet, or even mention the fact that they were in danger.

Axel was sat now with Merle, the two of them exchanging stories heartily of their times locked up behind bars.

"Juvy was the worst," Merle said. "Compared to Juvy, full-blown prison was a breeze."

"Well, I'm tellin' ya, I never thought I'd be happy to be staying in this place," Axel responded.

"Yeah, well i'm sure as hell glad I wasn't locked up when this whole thing started," Merle said. He remembered something and gave a little coyote laugh.

"There was this one screw in Juvy Hall," he told Axel, tapping the side of the convict's arm with his bladeless metal-bound stump, "who was the worst of them all. We all called him Sargent Shithead. This one day, a friend of mine, little Mexican bastard by the name of Ortega, got into a fight with him in the dinner hall. This Screw gets up from behind his desk and grabs the kid by the neck , just starts laying into him thick- me and a couple of other guys get up, ready to do this Screw's head in, and-"

"Listen up," called Glenn's voice suddenly, cutting through Merle and Axel's discussion. "Everyone- come out here please- now. We need to talk."

Slowly, the others began to emerge from the separate cells- Carol and Daryl, Carl from the far end. Michonne, who no-one had even noticed coming in, appeared in through the side of the cell block. The only ones not present were Maggie and Rick.

All heads turned in Glenn's direction; he was stood up just by the entrance, a small white rock in his hand and a serious expression carved on his face. He exhaled deeply, then said,

"We need a plan."

Hershel looked at him sadly and pronounced, "not now, Glenn-"

"Yes now," Glenn refuted steadfastly, walking in amongst the group and crouching down in the center of their settlement. He struck the chalky stone he was wielding across the grey cement of the floor and began to re-enact the plan of action he'd drawn up in his head earlier.

"We need to be prepared," Glenn stated firmly, beginning to circle the weakest points of the prison on his makeshift map.

"Prepared for what?" Asked Laurel uneasily, and the heads of the group turned either to her or to the floor.

Merle looked around at each of the survivors in turn, and, as realization wept in, he began to shake his head.

"You mean you people brought this girl up into this death-trap prison and none of y'all even had the common decency of warning her 'bout all the beef that's going down here?"

Laurel looked around, confused, eyes locking onto Merle. He smiled, still shaking his head. "You folks are crazy. And I thought I'd been hangin' around with the psychos."

"What's going on?" Laurel asked uneasily, a thickness to her voice.

"Tell you what," Merle said to her, "while these lot talk battle tactics, how's about you come on outside with ol' Merle and I'll pull you up to date with all that's happening?"

"I don't think that's a great idea-" Hershel demanded, imagining how biased Merle's telling of the tale might be. "We should all stay here and-"

"No," said Laurel, getting quickly to her feet. "I could use the fresh air, I think... is it safe?"

Expectantly, she waited for Merle. He nodded then stood; for a second Daryl looked asthough he might intervene, but the moment passed and he diverted his eyes to the wall of the cell block.

Merle moved forwards, a somewhat smug smile on his face, and lead the way to the front of the cell block.

"C'mon, sweet cheeks."

Laurel followed tensely, and the two disappeared out into the front of the yard.

**~oOo~**

**Speak ALL the languages! _0/**

**Free ALL the rednecks! _0/**

**Discover ALL the truths! _0/**


	9. Chapter 9: Truths

_**AN: *SQUEE ALERT* **_

_**In which there is lots of Lerley stuff**_

**Chapter Ten:**

** Truths  
**

"What were you all talking about?" Laurel asked the second they'd left the cell block, taking a second to enjoy the crispness of the air. Merle looked at her hard for a second, then turned to face forwards.

"Come n' walk with me," he said, leading the way over to one of the side fences. Laurel followed, a million questions buzzing in her brain, and as they came up to a metal bench, drilled into the floor and facing out towards the prison outskirts. Merle sat down slowly, and patted the metal stump of his forearm against the seat beside him. Laurel sat and faced straight on, taking in the defensive fences and the gargling walkers up behind them. They were difficult to ignore, but at least they were kept at a safe distance. This place seemed like the perfect salvation.

"Remember I was tellin' you that I was in with another group for a while?" Merle drawled eventually, brushing his hand round the back of his neck. Laurel nodded, looking at him now, which made him a little less comfortable; he didn't want to see her face while he told her that this haven was soon to become bedlam.

"The guy who ran the town," he continued, "he was a bad guy. Still is. Put me and Daryl up against each other in front of a crowd, wanted me to kill him. Used to shoot strangers on the wild- and that farmers girl, he's the reason she and her Asian boyfriend don't like me so much."

Laurel began to understand. "You worked for him?"

"Right-hand man," Merle said, swallowing back the little bit of shame that came with it. "Ironic, when you think about it."

Merle hunted in the corners of his mind for the right words to say, but everything seemed wrong somehow. Eventually he settled on a select few and was able to continue.

"He's got it in for this group," Merle told Laurel. "Hates me because I pissed off, hates Daryl 'cuz he's the reason I pissed off, hates Rick cuz he's the reason we managed to piss off and hates that black woman cuz she took out his eye."

"You mean- she actually cut his eyeball out?"

"Stabbed it in's probably more right," Merle remarked, smiling a little. "Got into a scrap with him- was glass, I heard. She's one tough bitch, gotta give her that."

"So- why do we have to 'prepare?'" Laurel asked, holding onto each side of the bench with her hands as though it might be pulled from underneath her at any minute.

"Well, this guy, calls himself The Governor- he's crazier than a basket of blind frogs," Merle told her, "he wants us all gone, permanent like. So we've gotta watch our backs, because he's coming, ain't no doubt about it; he's got us holed up in this joint like sittin' ducks and if we don't all scarper soon, when he does come, it ain't gonna be pretty, Cher. Just ain't."

Merle thought about what was gonna happen to all these people when the Governor decided it was time to pay his visit- Daryl'd be dead, so would he, that he was almost 100% sure of. All those people in there too, the old guy, Michonne, the lock-up with all the hair, the baby and the Sheriff's kid. That angry little China man and Rick too, obviously. His brother's woman, the farmer's girls and this kid here would take a bullet too, if they were lucky. _If they weren't..._ hell, they all knew what would happen. Merle tried to look over at Laurel and found for some reason he couldn't bring himself to do it. What they'd do to her, to the rest of the women here... didn't even bear thinkin' about.

"Shouldn't we leave?" Laurel whispered, a deep sense of dread lying in her stomach.

"Course we should," Merle agreed, "but this place is hella nice, even I got to admit it. And when you find something this good," he said, looking right at her, "it's hard to give it up... to hell If these people can sort themselves straight. That's what they'll be talkin' about now, I expect."

"...shouldn't we get back in there, talk it all out with everyone else? I mean, we're part of the group, after all, aren't we?"

"You might be, sweetheart... but those people ain't never gonna accept me, you mark my words."

"Don't be so sure of that," Laurel told him with a sad smile. "You're a lot nicer than you like to think you are."

"You found something in those mattresses and haven't been sharing?" Merle mocked, "I already told you- Dixon's ain't nice."

"You're nice to me," Laurel argued with a light show of her teeth.

"That's cuz you keep giving me that damn smile like butter wouldn't melt," Merle said to her, nudging her arm with his hand. She kicked him back with her foot gently.

"I seem to remember you promising to teach me how to take out those things," Laurel said, pointing out to the distant row of Walkers drifting about the outside fence.

"Promise, did I?" Merle smirked, stretching out his arms. Laurel shrugged and he went on, "you need to know how to shoot first. You go up on that platform-" he said, pointing to one of the look-out stations, "-and see if they've left any guns up there. I'll teach ya, alright."

"Fair enough," Laurel smirked, stretching from the bench and making her way up the stairs. Sure enough, one of the emergency weapons had been placed upon the top step; Laurel was a little uneasy about taking it, but carefully carried it back down all the same.

"Will this do?" Laurel said, flinching the gun, which was heavier than she had expected, with her wrist.

"Good as any," Merle mused, holding out his hand and taking the weapon- a regular Beretta handgun. It was fully loaded, so he poped the cap and removed the cartridge. He beckoned Laurel closer and she sat with her legs crossed on the bench, watching as he struggled to handle the dismembered weapon.

"Need a hand?" Laurel asked without thinking, eyes widening as she realized just what she'd said. Merle looked up at her with his eyebrows raised, shook his head slightly and handed her the gun.

"See here- you gotta hold back the slide- yeah, that's it- and this here is the magazine, where the bullets go. S'already fully loaded, holds 15 rounds- pretty sure this one's a nine millimeter. Imma take those out for now-" he called, "don't want you killing one of us. Now, you gotta push this magazine up into the grip, then give it a tap to make sure it's in proper." Laurel followed his instructions cautiously. "Now you gotta let the slide lock," he told her, motioning with his hand. She released the charge and it snapped back into place, making her jump a little inside.

"Good," he comended her. "This here's the de-cocker lever. You flick the side here and you're good to go- Then boom-badda-boom, you do your business, shoot whichever bastard needs shooting, and when you're done just put the safety on like this..."

He made her load and reload it several times, proving that she'd been listening. After a couple more attempts, Merle let her try it with the bullets in. When she'd done it successfully twice over he said, "You got it, Cher."

"Thanks, Merle," she smiled, folding out her legs beneath her on the sun-baked bench. "That was a lot easier than I thought it was gonna be."

"Don't mention it, kid," he answered, looking over at her as she raised her head up to the yellow rays. It lit up sparks in her sunny hair. The gun in her hand relaxed by her side and Merle scolded her.

"Whoa, whoa, don't get too Trigger happy there," he told her, grabbing the nose of the gun with his hand and pushing it forwards away from them, "you'll take someone's arm off, and I'd rather keep mine, if it's all the same to you. Now get the safety on that thing."

"Oops," she whispered, holding out the gun at arms length and staring uneasily at it. She handed it over to him. "...Maybe it's best if you hold it," she reasoned, putting the Beretta in his grip. He clocked on the safety and placed it down next to him on the warm metal bench.

"So, you gonna teach me how to hit targets and stuff?" Laurel asked, springing back up and looking around for things she could try hitting. There was a speaker up on the far wall that might be good to try once she's got the hang of it, and there were the walkers, of course, not that she really fancied something quite that messy just yet.

"Sweetheart," he said coldly, without really thinking, "if these people come, the only target you're gonna have to be hittin' is your own head."

Laurel was stunned into silence, and Merle thought maybe that wasn't the best thing he could of said- she looked horrified.

"...Look, Sweetheart, I- you understand why I said that, right?"

Laurel bowed her head and nodded. Hell if he didn't feel like the worst piece of shit in the world right now.

"They're not nice people, and I just don't think-"

"I get it," Laurel whispered quickly, her expression bleak. Merle sat there, for once not having any idea what the hell to say. _Well-fucking-done, Dixon. _

They were silent for a long time, not able to look at each other; until Laurel gave a shuddery little breath that neither of them could ignore.

"I'm terrified, " Laurel said eventually, still not looking at him. Merle was baffled- he tried to think of something that might make her feel alright somehow, some way to atone for upsetting her so much, but what was he gonna say? _Don't worry? _Don't worry about the army of murderers and rapists that are gonna come charging up in here any day now? She didn't need bullshit, she needed- hell, he didn't know. She hid her head in her hands and he bit his lip, no idea what to do. As a last resort, he tapped his hand on her shoulder awkwardly in an attempt at comfort. Unexpectedly, she leant her head against his shoulder and buried her face there, drawing comfort from his presence. Merle moved his arm around her shoulder and just held her there why she tried to regain her composure. He was no use at all this emotion crap- but if that's what she needed, just an arm around her shoulder and someone there, he could manage that, he guessed. He watched her melancholy face- her bottom lip was swollen from biting on it and her pale eyes, watching the cement floor, were sore and red at the rims, bringing out the sparks of colour there.

A long time later, Laurel looked up at the ceiling of the world, drawing away from Merle. A year without light pollution and the sky was already blossoming, stars whom had forgotten that daylight had arisen and the glowing moon still memories in the early sky.

"We don't look at the sky enough," Laurel mused, taking in it's glorious colours and shapes. "So busy with our own lives we forget there's a whole world out there... do you think there's anywhere left? I mean, like, a proper civilization still, somewhere where the world hasn't gone to..."

She ran out of words, and Merle's arm left her shoulders. A soft light illuminated the cantankerous clouds which bled over the sky and dripped shadows down onto the small world below. One such shadow crept over to where the two were sat on the bench.

"C'mon," Merle said to her. "I think I can smell breakfast, and smells like it ain't gonna be porridge for once. Let's get up with the rest of them." He stood, walked to the steps of the cell block and opened up the door. He looked over his shoulder at her expectantly; she smiled slowly and pulled herself to her feet.

**~oOo~**

The morning passed with a good meal and idle chat. Come twelve o'clock, however, Glenn charged back from watch like a man on a mission. Merle soon became sick of his constant military instructions and dissapeared back outside; Laurel followed not long after with the hope of escaping the hung over atmosphere inside the prison and some company. Not long after, she was being instructed on how to best destroy Walkers by Merle.

"Gotta go for the eye socket, dummy," Merle hissed at her as she drove an imaginary screwdriver through the middle of his forehead, enjoying her torment. "You ain't gonna have enough upper body strength to go straight for the skull."

"How to you know?" Laurel protested, taking her hand off his head and shoving his shoulder a little.

"I've seen more fightin' muscle on a tadpole," he teased, poking her arm, "not exactly Hogan incarnate, are ya?" Laurel rolled her eyes, and he took a few steps back. "Now concentrate," he said to her. "I'm a Walker," he called, hands out at his sides, "and I'm coming right at ya. What are you gonna do?"

"...Run in the opposite direction?"

Merle pushed her back a little, so that she was closer to the corrugated aluminium wall of the storage house. He stood back in place and watched her again. "You're in a locked room," he called, then lunged forwards a step as though to restrict her escape; she took a step to the side logically. He marked her, pulling her back into place.

"That ain't gonna work with a real-life Walker," he scolded her, "so it sure as hell ain't gonna work now, sugar."

He grabbed hold of her wrist, holding it tightly in his hand.

"Ouch," she complained, trying to pull away, "that hurts-"

"Yeah, well Walker's ain't considerin' how it's feelin' for ya," Merle went on, keeping his grip on her wrist as she tried shaking him off, "they just wanna rip the flesh of your little bones, so you best get used to it if you ain't gonna listen properly-"

"Okay, okay," Laurel said; they'd been going through defense techniques for a good twenty minutes now, and she just seemed unable to pick any of them up properly.

"So I got you by the wrist," Merle continued, "how'd you get me off ya?"

"Uh-" Laurel twisted her wrist and pulled.

"Wrong way!" Merle hissed, holding onto her even tighter, "c'mon, girl, you gotta _know_ this!"

"I'm trying!" Laurel called defensively, twisting her hand the other way.

"Jesus, your picking this up slower than a tortoise racing through peanut butter," Merle said, shaking his head.

"It's just that I just keep getting confused with-"

"Look," Merle said, turning her wrist towards her so she could see the way his hand was wrapped around it. "See where my fingers are touchin'? That shows you the way your wrist's gotta twist. You pull the right way, don't matter how strong he is, be he human or Walker, that bastard ain't holdin' on to you much longer. C'mon, twist that wrist."

Laurel practiced the twist a couple more times until Merle was satisfied with her progress. Then, he got her to put her palm up against his forehead.

"Teeth are your worst enemy," Merle told her. "Whatever else happens, you just gotta concentrate on keeping the teeth of said bastard offa your skin before you can stick something in through it's eye socket and put out it's brain for good. So you keep on mashin' your palm against it's head, can't get nowhere near ya. Try it."

Laurel pressed hard up against Merle's forehead as he tried to walk closer to her, gnashing his teeth like a genuine Walker. Just as he said, the technique proved successful.

"You got it," Merle smirked encouragingly. "Now put 'em together; remember though," he drawled, stepping back from her so they might begin the routine again, "Most Walker's gonna have an extra hand than I do,_ lucky bastards,_ so it'd be trickier to keep both hands off ya and still keep contact with their forehead. Now come on, show me what you got."

He came towards her, slowly at first, and she raised both her hands ready to push up against his head. He grabbed the one firmly in his own and walked her sharply backwards so that she had her back against the wall.

"Gonna have to do better than that, Cher."

Merle stood back in his original place and Laurel stuck her tongue out at him and tried pushing up against his head this time, but he moved his metal-capped arm and pushed her other from his head. Laughing, she tried to re-instate it's position as he repeatedly pushed it away, coming closer as he did so. Her hand finally found it's way pressed firmly against his head and she laughed, but didn't try pushing him away. He swept her hand back one more time, pinning it up against the wall beside her head; Laurel's breath shortened a little, and she forgot for a moment what they were doing, and found herself just smiling at him. Merle found that he was holding her there, his body almost up against hers, just looking into those funny grey eyes as she showed off that smile again, the ends of her hair tickling his arms lightly.

"I'm dead," Laurel admitted, hanging her head limply for a second to affirm the fact.

"Game over," Merle confirmed, lifting her head up with his hand but still holding her one arm up against the aluminium with his own.

"You'd be done for now," he told her, closing the gap between them. Jesus, he shouldn't be playing at this; but the way her breath had caught up in her throat and the pinkness of her skin, he just couldn't help himself. He was too old, he knew that for sure; but he was big and he was sharp and hell, maybe she just couldn't help herself neither. The old Dixon charm could still do wonders, raise the heat or drop it right down, even if the Apocalypse had left him a little out of practice. Testing her a little, he leaned his face up closer to her and she inhaled slightly, heart pounding. Unsurley, Laurel leaned a tiny bit closer to him, shy i the movement, and he smirked at her in response. He could almost feel the heat coming off her skin- to hell if he didn't have this girl wrapped up round his little finger right now. Maybe he could push the bar just a little further.

"And, you know," Merle said quietly, moving some of the dusty blonde hair away from her jaw with his hand, rubbing his thumb over the supple skin beneath, "The Walkers always go for the neck-"

"Am I interrupting something?" said a woman's voice- Laurel looked over, heart jumping, to see Carol stood up on the top balcony, hauling out another piece of wooden crate to use as shields. She found she couldn't speak, just stared at Carol, and then at Merle, who hadn't moved- but now his eyes were looking up past Laurel's head, and he wore an expression like one might wear when someone starts trying to have a conversation when you're in the middle of watching your favorite TV show.

"Just teachin' Laurie here how to shake loose Walkers," Merle drawled smoothly, winking at the girl. Her cheeks began to glow an even more intense shade of fuchsia and she nodded her head to Carol, systematically putting her head back up against Merle's forehead like they'd been practicing and giving a small smile.

"Hmm," Carol said, weary and not at all convinced. "Laurel, why don't you come in? Carl and Glenn found some jumpsuits out in the tombs that we could use a hand fixing up."

"Uh..." Laurel tried as Merle's arms dropped and he stepped back from her, "...yeah, sure thing." She began making her way towards the C block as Carol descended the stairs of her platform.

When Carol was ahead of Laurel, the girl's head turned to Merle and the two exchanged uncertain smiles. She disappeared inside and Merle gave a cheap, involuntary laugh.

**AN: Thanks for the feedback guys, and hope you enjoyed this chapter! SO MUCH GUN RESEARCH. This one was so fun to write :3**


	10. Chapter 10: Wild

** AN: In which Carol is unimpressed with Merle, and the Dixons go hunting for S'QUERL**

**Chapter Eleven: **

**Wild**

Laurel and Carol settled in one of the far-off cell's and Merle took the opposite one. A bundle of blue prison suits the same as the one Axel wore were piled up on the bunk of the bed, along with some food Carol had collected from the kitchen on the way in.

"Hope you like stone blue," Carol smiled, rifling through the fabric, "cuz that's all we've got to choose from at the moment."

"I can live with that," Laurel chimed, "at least they're not stripy or florescent orange."

"Thought you and Beth might be able to jazz them up a bit," Carol replied, "make them into something besides just jumpsuits. Plus there's some spare bed sheets, so you'll be able to use that fabric too-"

"This ain't a fashion parade," Merle reasoned idly, legs pulled up onto the mattress of the bed.

"You'll need some clothes too, won't you?" Carol asked him, as he picked his teeth with some of the wire he'd taken out of the mattress on his little quest for drugs.

"I don't need nothing," he hollered, "ol' Merle's fine just the way he is."

His habit of talking in the third person was beginning to grate a little on Carol.

"Aren't you gonna get cold?" Laurel asked him, the incident a few minutes ago still ringing bright alarm bells in her head.

"Dixon's don't feel the cold," Merle responded, flexing the muscles in his shoulders. Carol side-glanced at Laurel in a way that thoroughly questioned his logic.

"You don't have to wear it looking like this," Carol said, stretching her argument, "can cut it up and... make it into just a shirt or something." She was quite sick of the frankly offensive sight that was his arms and chest plastered about in front of everybody's face all day every day. He had one shirt with him, a sort of tawny beige colour, but he had neglecting it's use ever since that first night he'd been in the prison.

"You could cut the sleeves off, sew them up," Laurel suggested, folding out one of the jumpsuits and sizing up the fabric.

"I don't sow," he drawled forcefully, hissing as the wire caught on the skin of his nail, drawing a speck of blood. The bead ran down his finger and he dabbed the offending digit against the fabric of his filthy trouser leg.

"I don't mind doing it," Laurel suggested after a few seconds, picking at the seams of one of the suits with her teeth. "it'd olny take a few minutes..."

"Well ain't you an angel," Merle smiled, a little sarcastically. Carol swept back into the conversation, easing the burden a little.

"Could widen the collar, make it more-"

"Woman!" Merle snapped sharply, "I ain't tryin' to get a clutch turning tricks out on the curb, now am I?! I just want decent clothes that don't remind me of the bad-ol'-days when I was holed up in one of these good-for-nothing joints, a decent meal and a decent place to rest my ass at night. S'that too much for a man to ask?"

"I'm not your housewife, Merle," Carol scolded him.

"And thank God for that," he replied under his breath, going back to picking his teeth. Laurel repressed a smile but he noticed it, and threw a quick wink her way. Carol watched him a second more, then turned with a lazy smile to Laurel.

"Why don't you take these up to Beth, sweetheart? The two of you can get started on fixing them up into something a little more exciting."

"Sure thing," laurel replied sweetly, jingling to her feet a little enthusiastically. Carol handed the girl the pile of jumpsuits and she took them carefully, bundling them up in her arms and making for the corridor.

"See youse in a bit," she called as she dissapeared. Merle turned his head a little and watched her go, her long legs winding up the corridor.

"Listen," Carol said calmly. "I don't know what you were playing back there, Merle, but it's gonna have to stop." Merle looked at Carol slowly, purposefully, and smiled.

"Don't know what you're talkin' about, Missy."

"You know what you're doing with that girl." Carol exhaled lightly, then carried on. "Your messing with her head. I understand that it must be... difficult, being a guy, not having many women around, but it's not on. I won't stand for it. It's bad enough having to keep an eye on Axel tailing around after Beth all day every day." Carol tossed a hand through her short hair and tried to form a sentence in her head that would warn him to back off without sounding too pretentious.

"And you as well, I've noticed," Merle smirked, puckering out his lips and clicking his tongue, "m-hm. My little brother's getting mighty jealous, I'd say. Reckon that's why he's been acting like an angst-filled little shit lately, sick of watchin' some hairy-lipped convict salivating over his woman day and night."

"I'm not-"

"Yeah, you are. Shit, dunno how everyone else can see it but you pair refuse to. He's mad on you, I'd say. He's just too much of a sorry bitch to step up and act on it. He'd better learn, though, before that mustachioed fella does."

"I'm a big girl," Carol said with a mocking smile. "I can look after myself."

Merle found himself grinning at her from the side of his mouth. _What had happened to the little mouse he'd known, creeping around in her husbands shadow?_

"You're heads screwed on tighter than it ever was back outside Atlanta," he commented, scuffing his foot against the concrete floor. "What happened? D'ya finally kill that rag-tag husband of yours?"

"In a way," Carol replied. She remembered smashing that pick-axe into Ed's face, and for the first time didn't recoil at the memory.

"He had it coming," Merle affirmed, almost in an attempt at comfort. "You chop his balls off and feed him to the chum-chompers?" He smiled wryly, feeling something that might have been a little respect for the change in this woman. Carol flicked the corners of her mouth up a little, and Merle smiled back.

"Wouldn't have said you were the same woman if it wasn't for that dykish haircut," Merle commented without filter, eyes wide in contemplation.

"Thanks for that," Carol responded, raising her eyebrows. She stood up and grabbed the last of the jumpsuits in her arms, getting ready to go help the girls. In the doorway, she turned back to Merle.

"Like I said, it's bad enough having Axel running around on a sex-deprived rampage. I don't wanna have to keep an eye on you too."

"Then don't," Merle stated. Carol eyed him coldly. "She's just some kid," he affirmed, shaking the whole thing off as he bent the wire in his fingers.

"And you remember that," Carol told him firmly, nodding her head. "She is a kid. We all heard you going on back after Rick got you and Daryl out of Woodbury-"

"Ah shit, woman, that was just- that's just my way, y'know? Besides, how was I gonna know she was only seventeen? Don't look it, does she? ...Jesus."

Carol gave him a meaningful look and stood, carrying his plate of food through to the cell he was sat in and handing it to him. He thanked her in a surprisingly genuine tone and she smiled.

"I figure you're part of the family now," she breathed as she handed it to him; he gave her an amused look and gestured for her to sit down. She did and continued, "it's not much, but... given what we've had, this place, what we've got here, it's alot. When I think about it, I realize... I should have been dead several times over by now."

"Ain't that the truth for us all."

"I think part of the reason i'm still alive," she began, head bowed now ad avoiding his eye, "is because people underestimate me... don't underestimate me, Merle."

Merle leant forward a little, surprised at the sudden dark tone that had crept into her timid voice.

"...'Scuse me?"

She stepped back in a little, lowering her voice to make sure no one passing by would hear, then leant closer to him, smiling carefully.

"I've seen you making the rounds," she breathed. "Trying your best to play nice. But if you screw this up... mess with Daryl, try to get inside his head... screw around with that girl..." she paused then, her voice lowering to a whisper as she glared hard at him. "I will slit your throat while you sleep."

Merle watched her a moment longer, stunned by the venom in her tone... then smiled. He saw Daryl's silhouette over the woman's shoulder, hiding at the bridge above the stairs, and realized that there really was more to this woman than the battered old housewife he thought he had known.

Carol stood, still smiling, and gestured to the plate in his hand.

"Enjoy your food."

**~oOo~**

"Just put it on," Laurel demanded an hour or so later, handing out the shirt to him.

"Get outta my face, kid. I don't need to get all gussied up," Merle insisted, "besides, I got a feelin' light blue ain't my colour. Won't complimet my eyes, somethin' like that."

"Come on, I made it for you," Laurel urged, practically rubbing the fabric on his face.

"Made it my ass," Merle taunted brashly, "you took the legs off and rolled the sleeves up a little, can't say you _made_ it, girl. That'd be like drawing a mustache on the Mona Lisa and sayin' you did it, not Van Gogh."

"Van Gogh didn't paint the Mona Lisa," Laurel repealed, "Leonar-"

"don't care," Merle quipped, reaching out and smacking her away. "Go on, get. Ain't got time to be wastin' listenin' to your ass moan left right and center. Go do somethin' useful."

"At least try it," Laurel ordered, dropping it into his lap. She was wearing her own creation- another dismantled jumpsuit cut off at the legs so that it was just a shirt, done up to just below her collarbones; the fact it was made with men in mind caused the buttons to strain over her buxom chest, which hadn't escaped Merle's notice.

"Darn it, girl," he drawled at her, reluctantly pulling himself into the makeshift shirt, "you'll have us all lookin' like some sort of 90's boy band rejects, all tarted up in the same damn thing." He pulled the shirt fabric either side of him and let it hang loose at his sides. "Happy now?"

"Very," Laurel chimed, giving him a cheesy grin and swinging out of the cell. "Perfect fit, Cinderella," she called back to him, and Merle laughed to himself under his breath, going back about his business as her footsteps pattered back down the hall- If she wasn't the sweetest thing he'd known in a long time, even before the dead started killing the living. Her theatrics were charming and the way she kept smiling at him like he wasn't the worst person you could ever hope to meet made him feel a little better about himself. Perhaps this place didn't have to be so bad after all.

"You ready to head off?" asked Daryl, sticking his head around the cell Merle was in a couple minutes later.

"Thought you'd never ask," Merle smirked, aching to his feet. With a strange expression, Daryl gave his brother a quick once-over.

"The hell you wearin'?"

Merle looked down at the pale blue shirt now wrapped over his arms and shook his head. "Hell if I know. C'mon."

The two walked down to meet the rest of the group.

"Right, we're out," Merle called to them, slapping Daryl on the back.

"You be careful," Carol called to Daryl, handing him the ready prepared emergency shoulder bag full of supplies just encase they should get stuck somewhere temporarily.

"Don't you worry, I'll bring your boyfriend back in one piece," Merle promised her, keeping his hand on the shotgun over his shoulder. "Y'all make sure that little angel don't get no sleep while we're gone, or she'll be hollerin' her lungs all night," Merle added, motioning with one hand towards baby Judith, who was folded away quietly now in Beth's uneasy arms. Merle beckoned his brother to the front door of the cell block and clicked his tongue. Daryl had paused to gently stroke Judy's soft hair, sticking his tongue out at her as she watched him with her big blue eyes. Merle turned back to him with a roll of his own.

"Anytime 'fore it gets dark, Darlena," he drawled, opening up the door. "There'll be plenty of time to play Mother Hubbard later."

The others wished them luck and Daryl followed his brother out into the front yard. As they reached the first gates, a voice called across from the cell block.

"You coming back?" Laurel proclaimed loudly, one hand tugging at the sleeve of her new prison shirt.

Merle and Daryl both turned; the eldest took that it was his call.

"Course we are," He drawled, smirking at the girl, "I'll bring ya something nice back, don't you worry."

"You better," she smiled, giving him a mock salute in the doorway. She hoped he wasn't lying. "Make sure you both get back before it's dark."

"Yes M'am," Daryl called, hauling open the gate with Merle and vanishing behind it. Laurel watched them walk down to the second fence, before Glenn, stationed high up in the first guard tower on watch, told her to get back inside.

**~oOo~**

Rick had his weary head up the inside of the fence. His eyes were closed and he was murmuring heavily under his breath to himself, fingers caught up between the wires of the cage. Daryl and Merle were coming down the path sharpish, Daryl with his crossbow flung over his shoulder and Merle carrying the shotgun over his.

"Jesus, he's walkin' both sides of Crazy Town now," Merle murmured to his brother, easing out of the shirt the girl had forced upon him and tying it up round his waist, "Nuttier than squirrel shit."

Daryl shrugged, changing his course so that he wouldn't have to confront Rick. Merle followed behind, helping out with the fences, unphased by the stoic glare of Michonne as they passed by near where she stood, dismantling an old truck for it's metal to use as defensive shields.

"That black bitch has got it in for me," he told Daryl, shaking his head and spitting out on the ground.

"Yeah," said Daryl, mimicking his brothers action, "well you did try to hunt her ass down and kill her."

"Details," Merle shrugged, passing his brother and charging into the edge of the forest. Suddenly he thought of the kid he'd shot, Neil. His proper name was Gar..._ hell, what was he called?_ Gar-something-or-other. Merle felt something tighten within him and swallowed hard. "Her and that woman from back in Atlanta were tight, y'know? I reckon that's what she's pissed at even more than me. Don't see why, though- that bitch had her nose stuck up so high she'd of drowned if it'd rained... damn fine ass, though."

Daryl shrugged his brother off and followed him into the thickets of the forest.

"Feels good to be back in the wild," Merle grinned, drawing in an exaggerated breath, "smells like back home."

"The two of us remember home very differently," Daryl murmured, kicking up some dirt with his shoe. "Home smelt like cheap liquor and wet dog-"

"Just like the woods out back," Merle told him, ignoring his comment. "Smells like rain and acorns and-"

"Fuck, you a poet now?" Daryl teased. "... I hated them woods," he cogitated, scuffing the dirt again for any signs of tracks.

"Only cuz you got your ass lost in there back when you was knee-high to a grasshopper," Merle scoffed, "you tellin' me you don't miss those old summer nights? Campfire, couple beers... if I had that again some time, I don't think I'd even remember the world had gone to shit."

"Yeah, well it did," Daryl grumbled darkly, then lowered his voice to a whisper, holding a finger to his lips. "Now shut up, or you'll scare away dinner."

Looking up into the trees, Daryl had spotted a squirrel; it was perched lightly on a branch, ready to take flight should they make a sudden move. Daryl reached silently for the crossbow, carefully drew up the arrow and aimed it just right; he triggered the release, arrow whizzing at the beast, and just as he did, Merle yelled, _"Boo!"_

The creature darted away from the branch before the arrow could hit, and it whizzed by and into the trees above, lost in the thickets of the woods.

"God dammit, Merle!" Daryl yelled, shouldering his crossbow, "I had that one, you dumb son of a-! You've lost us dinner and an arrow, you dick!"

"Don't get your panties in a wist, Darlena," Merle said as he laughed, smacking Daryl in the side of the head, "there'll be plenty more piddly squirrel folk for ya to sink your teeth into. I got a hankerin' for some real food. If we go a little further in than we were planning on going, we could go after some Bobcat if we're patient. Hell, I'd even eat rabbit over them damn squirrels you're so fond of."

"We said we'd be back before dark," Daryl cautioned, crouching low as the trees rustled above. "Now shut it, I can see the little bastard."

Swiftly, Daryl shot his bow again and this time struck the squirrel. It fell unceremoniously from the tree and Daryl swept through the leaves and picked it up. He opened up the bag Carol had made him take, took out a yard of string and tied the squirrel over one shoulder like a macabre pageant winner.

"Impressive," Merle said, crouching down in the dirt- "but look what I've got." He directed Daryl's eyes down to the ground, where two thick paw prints could be seen.

"Hello, dinner."

**~oOo~**

"Straight up by the top balcony fence," Glenn instructed, hauling out another one. "We need to barricade all the walkways both sides to act as shields, then we'll get started on the corner covers."

Carol gave Axel a hand moving out the panel, and they propped it up against the far side of the first walkway going off the C block. "So far so good," Axel commented, leaning back for the next panel. Maggie had returned from atop the guard tower, her eyes rimmed with red, and had offered to help out- she and Laurel began to instate the second panel, and the group worked in a four to complete each walkway. Each panel came up to about waist-height, meaning they would be reasonably protected should and gunfire commence. Carl worked below with Glenn fitting panels either side of the entrance to the C-block, Michonne set about bringing through more panels from the outer fences and Hershel hobbled backwards and forwards setting firearms at each of the secure stations. Only Beth remained inside, rocking little Judy back and forth gently.

Hershel placed the last of the guns down behind one of the wooden panels. He caught a glimpse of Rick, who appeared to be dangerously far out the first fence.

"Keep up the good work, everyone," Hershel called, "I'm just going out to check on Rick..."

**~oOo~**

Merle and Daryl had been on the trail of the Bobcat for almost an hour. They'd encountered two walkers on the way, which had been quickly dispatched with a couple of arrows. As Daryl moved low through the leaves after the dusty prints, Merle sprung up the conversation he needed to have again.

"I'm fixin' to get out of here, little brother," Merle said, finding another footprint a little way off and picking up it's trail. "Let's just go- we don't need none of them. We're Dixons- this is where we're supposed to be, out in the wild."

"We've talked about this already," Daryl replied roughly, tightening the squirrel string.

"You know well as I do that gettin' along with these people's about as easy as herdin' cats," Merle told him, rubbing his fingers through a patch of ripped up dirt.

"You tellin' me there ain't one of these people you could get along with?" Daryl reasoned, "Axel seems to like you. The blonde one they found the other day, too. Carol's talkin' with ya, Hershel wants to give you a chance-"

"Look, man-"

"No, hear me out for once- I know you got problems with Glenn and Maggie, but imma talk to them and sort it out, you see? If you let your ego slide a little and just say sorry- and I know you are, I can tell it by the way you were talkin' first night we came here- they'll be alright. Bet you any money."

"You so sure about that?" Merle mused. "Ain't safe round here, you ain't dense enough not to sense that. Got Rick wranglin' the wrong side of Scitzo Street, the hot little China man runnin' his mouth up like he owns the place-"

"-He's Korean-"

"-Whatever, doesn't matter. The rest of 'em won't live the night out when you-know-who makes his appearance, don't matter how nice they are. We ought go, _now,_ whilst we've got supplies and they ain't expecting it. C'mon."

"I've told you already, I'm staying with them," Daryl resolved, shaking his head.

"These people who locked your own brother up on a roof, you'd choose them over me, your flesh and blood?!" Merle asked sharply, and Daryl shot back,

"We went after you- not just me, all of us! Rick, T-Dog, Glenn, and you can't blame none of us for cutting off your hand, you did that all by yerself. And besides, you were sure as hell askin' for it by what I've heard!"

"Askin' for- shit- your own brother who looked after your ungrateful ass since the day you popped out into the world?! I'm the only one'll ever watch out for you, you little-"

"What, same as when we were kids?" Daryl bellowed, "Bullshit! You were locked up half the time- Juvy, prison when they kicked you outta the forces- you weren't watching out for my ass then, no one was! Then you come out and piss off with your good-for-nothing rag-tag friends, come home high every few weeks lookin' for cash?!"

"I was in a bad way- bad crowd, you-"

"And I wasn't?!" Daryl yelled in a fusillade of abuse, "you got on meth and left me with _him-!"_

"-What, and that's why I lost my God-damn hand?!"

"No, y' lost your hand cuz you're a simple-minded piece of shit!"

Daryl turned away and Merle grabbed hold of the back of his shirt in a violent attempt to pull him back, screaming at him the whole time- Daryl faltered and fell so that the shirt ripped, exposing his bare back. Merle let go and stepped away in disbelief, staring at the pattern of thick scars seared all across his little brother.

"I-" Merle tried, unable to believe his eyes, "I- I didn't know he was-"

"Yeah, well he did," Daryl spat, holding his shirt to himself quickly, almost embarrassed. "And he did the same to you, that's why you left first..."

Daryl gathered up his crossbow and used it to conceal his back, stumbling to his feet and heading back through the trees in the direction of the prison. The herbage of the forest floor caught thick beneath his fingernails, and he set about removing it as he moved quickly down through the woodland.

"I- I had to, man," Merle tried, picking up pace behind him, "I- you know i'd have ended up killin' him otherwise- hey, where you goin'?!"

"I'm goin' back to the prison," Daryl said, "back where I belong. You can stay out here if you wanna, you just piss off into the woods. Take this." Daryl threw the bag of emergency supplies at his brothers feet and turned back around. "But I ain't coming with ya."

"Daryl- You know I just-!"

"Y'know, I may be the one walkin' away," Daryl interrupted, head bowed somewhat, "but you're the one who's leavin'- again."

Daryl dissapeared through the trees, and Merle stood still in the middle of the empty forest, not knowing whether he even had the right to follow.

**AN: DIXON FEELS**

**That scene with Carol and Merle is a deleted one- go find it on youtube, it's brilliant!**


	11. Chapter 11: House Call

_**AN: In which there is a unexpected, unwanted visit**_

**Chapter Twelve:**

**House Call**

Carol and Axel stood in the middle of the yard, enjoying the wavering afternoon sun. Almost all the panels had been fixed, and certainly everyone was in need of a break; Glenn had taken one of the cars out, claiming to be going out to check the outer perimeter, Maggie had swapped shifts with Beth and now she, Carl and Laurel were working on the final section. Carl spotted a gap in the framework up on one of the walkways, and Laurel offered to go up and secure it; she found the gap and proceeded to go after another piece of paneling, from inside to cover it.

"You see my brother," Axel told Carol, finishing off some long forgotten story, "he had a real money problem."

Carol smiled at him, still not quite believing the ridiculous story behind Axel's ending up in prison in the first place.

"And what was that?" Carol smiled, rocking back on her heels.

"Guys," Laurel called from atop the walkway, interrupting their conversation as she hauled along a thick piece of barricade wood lackadaisically, "would one of you mind giving me a hand with this bit? It's a lot heavier than I thought it was gonna be."

"I'm on it," Axel affirmed, making his way quickly up the stairs. Carol smiled and wandered over to where Carl and Beth were securing their final panel.

"To me," Axel smirked, "to you-"

A bullet whizzed up over the heads of the two on the balcony and Laurel and Axel dropped behind the new shields innately, both letting out a yelp of horror as they fell.

**~oOo~**

"You hear that?" Merle called to Daryl, the first words they'd spoken since their argument. Daryl shushed his brother- more shots rang out.

"Governor," Daryl proclaimed, and the two started running in the direction of the prison, their combative argument temporarily forgotten, alongside each other in juxtaposition.

**~oOo~**

Laurel and Axel lay there a moment in shock, just staring at each other with wide eyes as bullets suddenly began to whiz left right and center, their thuds sharply hitting the barricades and causing them to jump.

"Crawl!" Axel blurted out, but Laurel was already leading the way towards the side door- quickly as possible she reached her hand up and twisted the lock, pushing open the door and crawling inside; once in, Axel slammed the door and the two stood there breathing heavily, staring at each other with wide eyes as bullets shattered out of the door.

"You alright?" Axel gasped, chest heaving.

"Yeah," Laurel wheezed, breath taken by the shock of it. "You?"

Axel nodded quickly, and Laurel turned to the metal stairs which lead down to the ground level of the cell block.

"We've got to get down there," Laurel exclaimed, already halfway down the steps, and Axel followed, grabbing a rifle which was hung up behind one of the walls. He held i out to Laurel a little unwillingly, and she shook her head briskly.

"I can't shoot," she said, and Axel pushed it to her again.

"I- I only learnt how to load the thing today-"

"Same here."

The two looked at each other for a horrified second, before Axel nodded and held the weapon to his chest, pulling off the safety catch.

"Ready?" He asked Laurel, hand poised on the cell block door, and she nodded sharply, bursting outside as fast as possible as soon as Axel pushed open the door. Laurel reached down and grabbed a piece of wood they'd been using to create the shields, holding it before Axel and herself as the two ran over to where Carl, Carol and Beth were crouched, shooting bullets blindly over the top of the barricade they'd created earlier; Axel and Laurel crouched with them, shooting out into the wild, Laurel grabbing at the third emergency weapon Hershel had placed at the station. She followed the instructions Merle had taught her, and proceeded to shoot over the top like the others.

"Where's your dad?!" Laurel cried to Beth, who shouted back, "I don't know, he went out to see Rick and her wasn't back yet-!"

"I'm outta bullets already," Axel proclaimed, struggling with the rifle for a minute.

"Me too," Carol confirmed, "where are the refills?!"

"There aren't any!" Carl shouted over the blazing gunfire, "we didn't get around to putting them out yet-!"

"Up there!" Laurel shouted, nodding at the furthest off guard tower, "sniper!"

"Got it!" Screamed Maggie, who was running towards them with two rifles over her shoulder; with her hand gun she shot a bullet right up and the man in the tower dropped, hanging half over the floor of the balcony. Maggie practically threw the weapons to her younger sister, then crouched down behind a stray filing cabinet and continued to fire out at whatever it was assaulting them. The gunfire didn't cease, however- and it was coming straight on.

"Who's got Judy?!" Beth screamed to her sister, "did you- did you leave her?!"

"Well i wasn't gonna bring her out here, was I-?! Get back in to her," Maggie shouted, "and take Carl with you!"

Beth nodded, pulling at Carl roughly, but he wouldn't move.

"Come on, Carl!" Beth choked desperately, "it's not safe out here!"

"I'm a good shot!" he cried, working at the next rifle. "take Laurel instead-!"

"Y'all all head back inside," Axel yelled at the others behind their barrier, "I'll hold up here with Beth-"

"Not gonna happen," Carol called, taking Axel's gun from him as her own ran out of bullets, "Besides- you're a terrible shot."

Screaming at him, Beth managed to convince Carl to go as protection for her, on the condition that he'd be going to collect more ammo for the others, and the two flew back inside the cell block, taking the shield Laurel had brought with them. Axel took up the second rifle and fired the rest of it's ammunition.

Suddenly, all fell silent; the survivors each held their breath, expecting at any moment for the firing to take up again, but it didn't- instead, there was a thunderous crash of metal as the far gate was destroyed by a roaring vehicle. Axel carefully looked up over the top, followed by Laurel and Carol. The three looked out over the fence to see an ice cream truck stationary in the middle of the field- a single figure jumped out of it and ran back through the fence, jumping into what looked like an army vehicle parked a little way off.

"Are they going?" Laurel asked, and Axel shook his head. "Doesn't look like it."

Maggie rose from behind her shield, hand up to her eyes so she could better see the truck parked inside the gates.

"Shit," she said, as Walkers began to drift in through the broken fence. She could see Rick battling two Walkers outside the far fence, Michonne crouched behind an overturned truck, waiting for something to happen- the back of the ice cream truck bucked open nosily, and slowly, ever so slowly, a herd of Walkers began to crawl out.

"Shit!" Maggie cried once more, searching again for her dad- a torrent of gunfire arose and Maggie fired ceaselessly at the next sniper- he dropped soon enough. More rapid firing rang out, then the armored car drove away and silence returned.

"They're gone," Axel called to the others.

Maggie could see that outside the fence Michonne was on her feet, decapitating the first walkers that dared approach her; by some miracle Glenn roared back through the gates in their truck- but her Daddy was nowhere to be seen. Oh God...

"Glenn!" Maggie roared, gun still ready as she made for the gates, followed quickly by Axel, Laurel and Carol, "My dad, he's out there-!"

Quickly Axel and Laurel managed to get the gate open, and Carol ran inside to fetch more ammo and reassure the kids. Glenn made to get out of the car, but hearing Maggie's cries, jumped back in with a nod and drove out- he saw Michonne and Hershel in the far left corner of the shattered fencing's compound, and drove out to pick them up swiftly; on the way back up to the inner confides, Michonne shot down several walkers with Glenn's gun.

The trio drove back in the gates, fell out of the vehicles and into the embraces of their loved ones.

"Oh god," Maggie cried, holding onto Glenn's neck as she stared out at the now walker-infested prison.

"Where's Rick?" Carol cried from the doorway, arms filled with ammunition, followed swiftly by Carl; "he was still out there when-"

"Look," Axel called, pointing out past the sealed gates to where three tall figures were running up inside the broken fence, slashing down walkers as they came.

"That's them," Laurel acknowledged, "we need to go and help them-"

Glenn jumped back in the car, Axel and Laurel hauled open the gate for a third time and the truck screeched to a halt beside Rick, Daryl and Merle. The three clambered into the vehicle with vicious haste and Glenn drove them back inside the safety of the inner prison fence, the car doors already opening back up before the vehicle had come to a halt.

Merle stepped out, all guns blazing as he began to rant about which bastard did this and what dickhead should go where and a whole lot of other crap which was temporarily silenced when Laurel fell over herself and game him an overt hug of relief. Surprised, Merle tapped her on the back a little, noticing a couple of uncertain, condescending looks of disapproval from the group; but most were still far too caught up in their confusion and relief that they didn't even notice the exchange.

Laurel pulled away, flushing pink.

"Sorry- you all alright?"

"Right as rain," Merle said, raising his eyebrows at her and giving her a quick, reassuring smile. He pushed her back a little and she moved aside, shaking her hands about awkwardly.

"Is everyone okay?!" Carol asked, rushing down the steps now with panicked speed.

"We're fine," Daryl said, still holding together his ripped shirt as he headed for the door. Cautiously, Carol placed a hand on his arm; he shied away a little but didn't brush her off.

"Get everyone inside, now!" Rick ordered with juridical dominance.

Cautiously, and with a sense of foreboding that all was not over, the group trailed back inside, holding their weapons close.

**AN: oh, canon, how I love thee. Shall I compare thee to a summers day-?!**

**No.**

**NO I WILL NOT.**

**CURSE THEE, FOUL GOVERNOR!~**

**R&R for more!**


	12. Chapter 12: Trials

_**AN: In which the group comes to blows and Lerle things happen**_

**Chapter Thirteen:**

**Trials**

"Get everyone inside, now!" Rick ordered with juridical dominance, and the group cautiously filed back through the door. Commotion erupted the second everyone was back inside, a thousand voices and questions all bubbling over each other at once.

"What the hell was that?!"

"Will they be back?!"

"Why would they just-?!"

"Is everyone alright?!"

"Alright, everyone, shut up!" Rick shouted over them all, but everyone was still buzzing loudly, fear and nervousness clashing and casting a thick, erratic veil over the group. "Come on now, everyone pipe down and-"

"Alright y'all, SHUT UP!" Merle yelled, slamming his armored stump hard against one of the metal frames of the cell doors, and instantaneously everyone looked to him with stunned, alternately angered expressions- but all in silence. He nodded at Rick from the opposite side of the room and the Sheriff returned the gesture.

"We gotta straighten ourselves out," Rick told them all, motioning for everyone to sit down. Nobody did.

"This is all your fault!" Glenn roared at Merle from across the cell block, "if you hadn't taken us to Woodbury, the Governor would have never even known this place existed-!"

"Don't you blame this shit on me!" Merle bellowed, harking forwards towards the smaller man. Daryl grabbed hold of him and he shook his brother off.

"You did this to us!" Maggie yelled with an irascible scream, "what you did to Glenn, what you did to me, it caused-!"

"I didn't lay a hand on you, girl, and don't you dare try suggest I did," Merle said threateningly with a vicious growl, jabbing a finger in Maggie's direction.

"Don't you talk to her like that!" Glenn screamed, and the others began to try and calm him; Merle coaxed him forwards, and quick as a shot, Glenn socked him straight across the nose. Merle reeled around and pounced towards Glenn- Daryl and Rick grabbed hold of Merle, who was practically growling at Glenn as he spat ethnically orientated insults at the other man; Maggie and Laurel had an arm of Glenn's each, but he was proving more difficult than they'd expected to restrain; Axel and Hershel stood between the two men, Carol pushing back on Glenn's chest, easing calming words at both of them; their attempts were proving ineffective. Beth held Judy tighter to her chest, Carl holding tight to the back of Merle's shirt, until Daryl roared out,

"Can't y'all see this is exactly what the Governor wants?!"

The group turned to him, still restraining Merle and Glenn tensely, but now in silence. Merle was bleeding from his nose, thick sheets of red streaking the lower half of his face.

"He wants us scared- wants us to panic. Why? Cuz that's when people get stupid, start makin' make mistakes and start bitin' each others necks, and so far it looks like he's done a pretty good job on y'all!"

"Daryl's right," Beth choked, her eyes now lacking their usual luster as she tightly cradled the baby, "blaming each other isn't going to help at all... what are we gonna do?"

"And you two," Daryl interrupted hotly, moving a finger over to Glenn and Maggie whilst his other hand stayed on his brother, "Merle's one of us now, so you best get used to it-"

This sparked another flame of screaming and baby Judy began to wail.

"All of you shut up, you're scaring my sister!" Carl commanded, "If you're gonna waste time just screamin' at each other, fine, but to it somewhere else, will ya?!"

This caused a stigma between the group, and slowly everyone started to sit down.

"I'm done with this," Merle hissed, shaking his head harshly and turning from the group as he broke from his brother's grip. "You people are crazy. All of y'all."

Merle stomped away and made for the steps. Several of the groups members turned to Daryl.

"I'll go after him-"

"No," Rick assured, "no, I need you here to talk this out... we need to decide what's gonna happen from here on out."

"I'll go," Laurel concluded with a frown, and Rick nodded uncertainly. Laurel shuffled through the others and took up the stairs after Merle.

"If he's ravin-" Daryl called after her, but he didn't seem to have any words after that. Laurel nodded, understanding.

"I'll be okay."

**~oOo~**

The familiar sound of tearing fabric greeted Laurel as she hit the top level of the cell block.

"This how you plan to settle it?" Laurel asked as she approached the cell he was demolishing, "tearing up mattresses again?"

"Would you rather I tear up that little Asian fuck's face?!" Merle spat back, ripping through another part of the mattress' foam.

"What, so you'll find some dope and that'll make all your problems go away?"

"I don't think even dope could help me get rid of you," Merle snarled, ripping back one of the sheets with a satisfying screech. He was feelin' damn hot under the collar, and not in they way he'd prefer to be around this sugary little thing. His eyes set on her, cold as he could make them, and he could practically see her squirm; g_ood,_ he thought. Thing like her should know better than to test him when he was riled.

Laurel chose to ignore his sharp words, feeling more than a little hurt, leaning up against the door frame. Blood was still running down his face from his nose and he had a face like death upon him, a face that was genuinely scary.

"Didn't you hear me, girl? I ain't got time to be playin' games with ya. How about you head on back down stairs and do whatever it is you do around here- paint your nails or whatever."

"I thought you were going to at least try fitting in," Laurel scolded him contentiously.

"With these coots?" Merle growled, almost laughing. "Ain't never gonna happen."

"Double negative-"

"-Fuck off."

Laurel shook her head at him, a little thrown. '_Bad mood'_ didn't quite suffice.

"Come here," she said carefully, stepping in.

"Go away, kid," Merle warned her, trying hard as he could to cool himself. He hadn't ever hit a woman- not whilst he was sober enough to remember, anyway- and he hated feelin' het up at this girl. Didn't want her being the first. "I'm hankin' for a fight and if you ain't too careful you might get the brunt of it."

Laurel took another step closer to him carefully and reached with delicate hands for the blue shirt tied around his waist.

"Off," he warned gruffly, moving as to shake her away like a panther ready to strike.

"We need to clean your face up," Laurel reasoned gently, giving him a moment before pulling the fabric loose from behind him and moving around to sit in front of him. He glared at the girl, now sat in his ripping space, but she didn't budge- slowly, and very aware of the pierce of his infuriated glare, she carefully raised the fabric up to his face and began to dab away the coagulating blood. The flashes of red were quickly absorbed into the smooth fabric, and Merle stared at her the whole time.

"You scared of me?" he asked quickly, watching close for her reaction. He hated that he didn't know what was going on in her little head; that was the thing with women. He could read 'em like open books once they were het up to get down- hell, God knows he'd had enough experience with women like that- but this kid didn't give off nothin' he could read, nothin' solid. She did things- things like this, comin' up in here when she knew he was ready to blow a fuse any second. Too damn sweet for her own good. He watched her as she softly moved her hands to his face, and could see she was still weary of him, brave as she was acting.

"No," Laurel answered, brushing her fingers against his stubble as she pinched his bleeding nose.

"Should be," he told her seriously, "where's your smarts? Every one else is scared. Your little blond friend, Beth, especially. Heck, don't think she's said a word in my direction since they brought me back here; smart girl. Knows you don't pull on a dogs ears when he's pissed."

"You're not a dog," she whispered, "and I know you aren't gonna hurt me." He heard the falter in the break of her soft voice.

"How'd ya know?" He growled, making himself a little taller, testing her resolve. Her hand stopped a second, and so did her heart, but then she reached up to the new height of his face and continued dabbing at the cuts.

"I just know. You're not the big bad wolf, even if you'd like to think you are."

"You're one fucked up kid," Merle grumbled, though he seemed less rage-filled. "I tell you to stay away and you come right up in here and start rubbing your hands all over my damn face." Not that he was complaining- having her soft fingers up against him didn't feel all that bad. She said nothing as he continued to watch her, marveling at her funny little ways. she sucked in her bottom lip as she waited for the blood to stem, sneezed oddly a little as a wisp of her white hair caught against the side of her face. Merle felt something like a smile inside.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to hang around with strange men?"

"You're not that strange," Laurel smiled quietly, dabbing away the remnants of dark blood carefully from the top of his lip. Carefully she added, "you are a little daft, though."

He didn't react harshly, so she went on, a little more confident. "How do you expect to be accepted if you're charging off and running your mouth when the group needs you most?"

"I don't see you down there, Missy. 'Sides, these people don't need me. They need Daryl-"

"-And Daryl needs you. So do the rest of us."

"-Tell that to the little Asian shit who just clocked me in the face-"

"- _I_ need you. So you need to stop being such an ass-hat and help us all. You know this Governor better than everyone else-"

"-what you just call me, girl?"

Laurel looked at him cautiously, her hand stopping mid-sweep. His expression was certainly not an impressed one, and some of the threads of fury still hadn't eased off his skin, but she felt a smile tugging at her lips and fought a struggle to restrain it.

"...An ass-hat."

Merle laughed dryly, and found he couldn't stop. "Come over here and say that to my face, you little-"

He leaned forwards and tickled her side roughly- Laurel squirmed, giggling uncontrollably as she shoved his hand away. He pushed her with a smile and she knew he'd cooled off- at least to Merle Dixon's standard of 'cool'.

"Feel any better now?" She asked gently, and he looked up at her with a cold smile. He pushed away a thread of yellow which had fallen over her rosy cheek.

"I suppose I am, Cher."

She bit her lip and smiled a little, bowing her head and lowering the damp ruined shirt into her lap.

"you've stopped bleeding," Laurel said, balling up the fabric in her hands.

"Yeah," Merle drawled, smiling at her. "Guess I have."

"You gonna come down, try help sort things out?"

Merle sighed thickly and looked at her hopeful face. She looked as though she might actually believe he had a chance in with these people… _dumb kid_. But then he thought of the way she'd looked earlier when he'd freaked her out over the Governor coming, how damn upset she'd looked, and thought he couldn't bear seeing that again so soon.

"Maybe in a little while," Merle answered.

"Maybe?" Laurel questioned, leaning back against the ripped mattress with an unaccepting look.

"Alright, I'll be down," Merle growled dismissively, and Laurel gave him another lambent smile and slowly departed, floating from the room silently.

Merle thrust his hand back underneath the mattress filling once her footsteps had gone from the stairs, and carried on hunting for a hit.

**AN: thanks for reading, guys! **

**Hope you liked, R&R if you did! ;D**


	13. Chapter 13: Tribulations

_**AN: In which Rick needs stuff... things, and five people gtfo of the prison**_

**Chapter Fourteen:**

**Tribulations**

Downstairs, Laurel discreetly discarded of the bloody shirt in one of the furthest off cells before joining the group; the atmosphere was far calmer now, yet a heated debate was clearly on the horizon.

"There's nowhere to go!" Glenn hissed through his teeth. "We can't just up and leave; we've gotta hold out, can't you see that?!"

"Glenn's right," Rick husked- the whole ordeal seemed to have kicked him back into his leadership ways. "We're not leaving."

"We can't stay here any longer," Hershel reasoned, "it's not safe for us. If another sniper-"

"We can't even go outside," Beth commented dismally, placing Judith down in her cot.

"We're not running."

"We _have_ to go."

"Go where?" Carol called, "there is nowhere else, just like Glenn said- we've got everything we need here, food, water-"

"That won't last forever," Laurel pitched in.

"That's right," Michonne added, "they could just starve us out if they wanted to."

"We've lived on the road just fine before," Daryl noted, "we could do it again if it comes to it."

The conversation bled into the night, with no decision made. Eventually, after many hours, the group submitted to the darkness and agreed to pick up the discussion first thing tomorrow. Laurel, out of habit, went back upstairs to sleep. Merle said nothing, but she had an innate feeling he was still awake.

"You promised you'd come back down," Laurel called, more than a little disappointed.

Merle considered pretending to be asleep, but hell, she wasn't a dumb ass, that he knew.

"Promised?" he rebuked quietly, and Laurel came closer to the bars of the cell.

"As good as," Laurel replied, leaning closer. He was lying back, facing away from her- ignoring her.

"Rule number one of the Merle Dixon handbook," he drawled quietly into the darkness; "Merle lies."

"I'll remember that," Laurel said darkly, and took to her bed without another word, welcoming sleep.

**~oOo~**

Morning came sharp and unrestful; she pierced the shoulders of the tired prisoners and shook them awake unforgivingly. The group- Merle included- gathered back together outside the lower cells, and continued their debate which seemed to have no ultimate reasoning.

"Shoulda got out of here last night while we had the chance," Merle spoke, shaking his head, as he stood a little off from the rest of the group. "But we missed that niche, didn't we?"

"Yeah, well maybe if you'd been down here last night instead of skulking around upstairs you could have suggested it," Laurel snapped, much to the surprise of the others. Even more surprising to them was that Merle didn't say even a word in retaliation.

"Governor could have men stationed on all the exits by now," Merle continued, "that Ice-cream van o' Walkers, that was just his way of saying howdy-doo to you folks."

"We ain't scared of that prick," Daryl disputed, and Merle scoffed.

"Yeah, well y'all should be."

Rick walked off, and Hershel stood.

"Get back here!"

Rick turned slowly in the silence, and Hershel continued, "you're slipping, Rick. We've all seen it and we understand why, but now is not the time for… this."

The conversation pettered out, and half an hour later, some sort of decision was made.

"We hold up," Glenn concluded, "stay here as long as we can. But just in case anything does go wrong, we station vehicles on all the exits, loaded with supplies and gas-"

"-And where the hell you suppose we're gonna get all these gas and supplies?" Merle questioned, and Daryl looked up at him.

"Oh, great," Merle sighed, grasping his brothers meaning, "we Dixons expected to risk our lily asses again for the benefit of the masses. Why don't you people just shoot us in the head already and get it over with?"

"We need to be prepared," Rick said. "It doesn't have to be you, but someone's gotta go. I'll go myself-"

"No, you won't," Daryl interrupted, "you and Glenn need to be here 'case he comes back. Merle and me'll go and we'll be back within a couple of hours, just drive over to that store up down the right, grab some food, roll up to the highway then boom, done."

"I'm up for it," Axel added, standing as though ready to spring from the door any second.

"I'll go," said Laurel blankly, and Michonne nodded. Merle scoffed at the trio.

"Brilliant. So the Dixons, sword woman, the lip tickler and little Bo Peep here; the dream team. Let's get real, people. Governor's comin, ain't no amount of supplies or gas gonna save any one of us from that. We're stuck in a hole, ain't no time to start diggin' down."

"Someone will go get supplies," Glenn continued, ignoring Merle's conflict. "Everyone wears swat gear 24/7 from here on out- Maggie and I are going into the D block in a minute to collect the rest out of the bunker there. Whoever's going- we need to decide who- will go head-to-toe in the stuff."

Daryl looked at Merle.

"I'm going," he drawled. "Stay here if you want to, but we need that stuff. You comin'?"

Merle shook his head and rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Like I'd leave you, boy. The things I do. C'mon, let's go get geared up."

"I want to go with you," Laurel said. She and Merle still hadn't resolved their conflict about his not turning up last night, so both were a little on edge with the other.

Daryl and Merle exchanged a look, and Laurel tried to defend herself. "I may as well do something useful," she reasoned.

"You can be useful here," Glenn motioned, and laurel shook her head.

"Cooking pasta and making shirts isn't going to do us any good in the long run; If I go, I can help out, even if it's just keeping watch while you get what we need- you know what they say, the more hands the easier the work-"

"-And too many cooks spoil the broth," Merle added.

"You could do with the extra hands," Axel piped up.

"That one just for me, Ax?" Merle mused, and Axel shrugged.

"The four of us'll go, and Michonne; thereby if there's any trouble we've all got each others backs, and Laur's right about keeping watch. But if we are goin', we best get movin- this bastard could turn up again any minute."

Reluctantly it was decided, and Merle and Daryl served as back up as Rick, Glenn, Michonne and Maggie went out to fetch the swat gear. There was no sign of any trouble- no snipers on the roof or gunmen in the barracks- and the team were able to easily grab all the swat gear with a couple of runs back and forth. They piled the gear just inside the cell block door and everyone gathered before it.

"They're a little dusty," Rick said, "but they'll suit us just perfect. Now before the group goes on the supply run, we need to count out how much of everything we've got; prioritise them, then whoever's on watch. There's deffinatley enough helmets and vests here for everyone, though, and no-one leaves the block from this moment on without both of those on and a gun at their side. Clear?"

Everyone agreed, and the group began sorting the SWAT gear into each individual uniform- there were six full sets, more than enough helmets and stab vests, a few assult batons that might come in handy for face-to-face combat, be it with walkers or humans, and seven thick plastic bullet shields.

"We should put those outside," Laurel suggested, "they'd make moving around a lot easier if we do have to make a run for it."

"I'll get on it," Glenn advised, and Maggie helped him to deliver the shields to their new stations before giving Glenn a small, consoling kiss on the cheek and, wearing her bullet-proof vest and helmet, made her way up to the watchmen's nest on the right.

The corpse of the sniper she'd shot still hung at the base of it's balcony, but she didn't know what to do with it; she could hardly throw him to the Walkers, it just seemed- wrong. Instead she tried to forget about it's presence and moved along to the second guard tower, wondering just how they were going to get out of this mess.

**~oOo~**

Back inside, the five who had agreed to go on the supplies run were being helped into their riot gear.

"Still don't see why there's gotta be five of us," Merle questioned gruffly, tugging at the vest he was being forced to wear.

"The more the merrier," Laurel mused, lurching a little as Carol tightened the straps on her own vest with all the gusto of lacing a corset.

"It's your ass," Merle warned, to both Axel and Laurel.

"Could do with the fresh air, myself," Axel said, "I haven't been outside this prison for a good few years now-"

"Yeah, well don't get too excited," Daryl mumbled, "world ain't like it used to be."

"Didn't like it much back then," Axel mused, pulling one of the shin guards around his leg. "Jesus, this stuff's heavy."

"Put your arm guards on," Carol said to Daryl in the way a mother would scold her child.

"I don't need those things," Daryl shrugged, a little embarrassed to being spoken to in such a way before Merle. Merle could see it in his brother, and hissed a little through his teeth, shaking his head.

"You'll be glad of them if you're getting shot at, or if a Walker comes too close," Carol warned, picking up both his and Merle's guards and handing them out.

"Ain't no way," Merle hissed, and Daryl took steed of his brother.

"I'll put them in here," Carol said, annoyed at the pair, and knelt down to put them away in the bag of emergency supplies she'd prepared.

"How are we gonna cope with Judy on the road?" Beth asked quietly.

"We aren't going to need to go on the road... _'on this rock I will build my church_'," Hershel recalled to Beth as she rocked Judith, "'_and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.'_ Matthew 16:18."

"Ain't hell that's comin'," Merle told him, "we ain't that lucky."

"And t_hough I walk in the midst of trouble,"_ Hershel went on,_ "you preserve my life; you stretch out your hand against the wrath of my enemies, and your right hand delivers me."_

"Always the right hand," noted Merle. "Speakin' of hands, I ain't goin' out there without my trusty knife by my side. You people got any duct tape?"

"Is that really going to work?" Laurel asked, pulling her foot into one of the oversized SWAT boots.

"If you can't fix it with duct tape-" Daryl mused,

"-Then you ain't usin' enough duct tape," Merle concluded. Carol found a roll in the bag she'd sent with Daryl when they'd gone hunting.

"No luck finding that pig you were after, then?" Carol asked the two.

"We were on the tail of some bobcat," Daryl told her, "before we-" Daryl looked over at Merle, who was avoiding his glance. "heard those gunshots and ran back."

Merle took the duct tape and dissapeared quickly back upstairs to assemble his weapon.

"Here's your bag," Carol smiled at Laurel, handing her the reassembled backpack that she'd brought with her.

"Thanks," Laurel said gratefully, strangely comforted by having her menial bag of belongings returned. "I'll go put these-"

_Where? _She thought; was she moving down here like had been suggested, or was she going to stay upstairs? Being with the rest of the group would make her feel a little safer, she thought, but upstairs it was quieter, there was more privacy._ There was Merle, _she admitted. Taking the stairs, she moved over to her cell opposite his.

He was too stubborn to say even a word. Eventually, after watching him struggle fruitlessly with assembling his weapon one-handed, Laurel dumped her bag on the floor of her cell and moved over to his.

"Come here," she instructed, taking the tape and sitting beside him.

"Hold that," she told him, and placed his big hand over the knife to secure it to the metal cylindrical guard. Awkwardly she began to wind the tape around it, securing the blade in place.

"You oughten come, you know," Merle told her, watching her as she worked.

"I'm coming," she affirmed resiliently, "I want to help. These people took me in, and the least I can do..." Laurel stopped half way through her sentence, tugging at the tape as it got caught against her own skin.

"Didn't have you down as the stubborn type," Merle murmured, sucking his teeth at her.

"You got any scissors?" Laurel asked dismissively, tugging at the remains of the roll.

"No, but I got teeth," Merle mused, and proceeded to attempt to cut loose the tape from his arm. It was a struggle, but the two were eventually parted. Laurel held the weapon to Merle's arm as he tightened the straps securing it there. Laurel was staring, apparently without realizing it, quite intently at the creation. This was the first time she'd seen it assembled up close.

"Did you make it yourself?" she asked Merle, tapping a finger against the metal contraption.

"M-hm," Merle noted, "wasn't easy, but can't complain about the end result- what'cha think?" Merle rotated his cuff, showing it off with a smug smirk.

"It's pretty badass," Laurel affirmed, poking a finger at the blade to see if it would hold. It stayed in place, but she still had her doubts. "You sure that's gonna be enough to hold up against Walker skulls and God knows what else?"

"If you have faith in anything in this life," Merle told her, "have faith in duct tape."

Laurel smiled at him, and he thought he might be off the hook. _Jesus, listen to yerself,_ Merle mused, _actin' like a dog sent to the kennel cuz you've pissed off some kid._ But she'd made him feel like the meanest son of a bitch around, just with a look and a couple disappointed words. That kinda pissed him off, now he thought about it. Felt like he ought jibe back at her- a wicked thought suddenly flitted across Merle's mind and he had to constrict a smile.

"You wanna see the stump?" he asked the girl, teasing, though he made it sound serious.

Laurel choked on her words a second, clearly horrified by the idea, and Merle laughed; a light sound which flickered off the walls of the room.

"I'm just kiddin' ya, sugar, just kiddin'. Thing of your disposition'd probably drop down dead at the sight of it."

Laurel laughed awkwardly and Merle looked at her with an expectant expression.

"So, you ever gonna ask about my hand, or you just gonna keep starin' at my arm until I grow a new one or somethin'?"

Laurel stared at him, lost. Of course she wanted to know- she'd been itching to find out since the moment she'd first seen him. But it wasn't exactly the sort of thing you just blurted out, was it? _'Oh, nice weather we're having- by the way, how did you loose your hand?'_ But then again, Merle was a straight talker, she supposed.

"Uh... how did you loose it?"

"Wouldn't exactly say I 'lost' it," Merle chuckled, drawing leg up onto the mattress, "more like we were forced apart."

"Did you get bit?" Laurel asked, her curiosity now inextinguishable.

Merle shook his head then leaned in close to her face and whispered, "Hacked it off."

"Who-?"

"I did."

Laurel looked at him with utter confusion. "Are you having me on?"

"Whole truth, cross my heart," Merle responded, acting it out as he said it.

"But- why?"

Merle looked at her coldly then. About time she knew the truth of these people, anyway.

"Good ol' Sheriff Rick cuffed me up on a roof in Atlanta; left me to the biters. Had to hack it off with a blunt saw, Cher. Wasn't pretty, and hurt like a bitch."

Laurel looked utterly stunned. "But he- what?!"

"You heard what I said."

"He wouldn't-"

"He did. Wasn't just him, neither. Was Glenn, too, couple of others that are long gone now."

Laurel looked at him, a little doubtfully. "Are you telling me this straight?" She asked, almost unable to believe that anyone could purposely do that to another human being.

_Shit, wasn't she supposed to be on his side?_ He furrowed his brow, clicked his tongue. "Well- it's the gist. There was this black bastard, T-dog- dead now- dropped the fucking keys, dumbest piece of shit I ever knew; damn lucky his ass hit the concrete before I could get at him, i'm tellin' ya. Left me there with the biters, they did, didn't so much as look back. Had to fight my way off that roof bleedin' out, one handed and off my head on- Jesus, I can't even remember what I'd took."

Laurel heaved a visible sigh of relief- the true nature of what had happened still wasn't exactly a fairy tale, but it was sure as hell better than what Merle had first made out.

"Jesus, Merle, you made me think-"

"Yeah, I know- but don't you be thinkin' these people are angels just cuz they didn't hold the door shut while I was up there. They done plenty things I could tell ya about that'd make you pretty skin crawl backwards. 'specially that Rick."

Laurel was quiet, staring into her lap. "Doesn't matter," she quipped gently, lifting her head and looking at him with sadder eyes, "they're good people. I trust them."

"You trust too quick, girl."

"I know they're not perfect," Laurel guffawed, a little snappily, "I'm not _stupid,_ you know. I can see this place is held together with- with duct tape and band aids," she mocked, shaking the roll in her hand, "but it's _good,_ can't you see that? At least we don't go around shooting up other groups, trying to kill them just for the sake of it-"

Merle thought of the military group he'd helped ransack. Thought of that damn old folks home the Woodbury men had come back from, that first week they had taken him in. He knew they were a rotten crowd then; come back from a supply run with shit loads of stuff and say it's cuz you just happened upon a group that had just been taken out? Didn't happen. Rest of Woodbury seemed to blank it out, but he wasn't blind, and he sure as hell wasn't stupid, no matter what anyone thought- _psycho redneck,_ that was the first impression of most, he'd figured. He could see bullshit through the eye of a needle, and Woodbury was swimming in it.

"Are you listening?"

Whatever she'd just said, he'd missed it completely, lost in thought.

"-it's special here; granted it's no Wonderland, but it works. Everyone looks out for each other and people get along. Heck, I think if you'd just _let_ yourself, you might even start liking us."

_Us,_ Merle noted. That meant two things, he figured- she saw herself as well in with Rick's crowd now. And why shouldn't she? She was easy to manage, sweet little thing, didn't cause no trouble. Not like him at all- loud, reckless, not givin' a shit about what anyone thought. Except his baby brother and this girl, he was findin' lately.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Merle quickly smirked, nudging her shoulder with his hand, "I like you. You got- spunk."

The two looked at each other for a long moment, trying to restrict their grins, and Merle smacked her in the side. "Not like that, you dirty-minded little creep." He gave a ringing laugh and Laurel grinned back cheekily, fluffing out her yellow hair with one hand.

Merle laughed again. He watched her, a smile still on her face as her grey eyes watched the wall and she 'fixed' her hair- she looked- well, what was it? Them eyes that looked at the world, looked at him sometimes, like everything wasn't so bad after all. She was a right little darlin', and hell if he didn't wanna put his hands- dammit, hand- on her right now. He'd got a taste for her when he'd got her up against that wall, with her pulse between his fingers and her flustered breath on his skin, right afore his brother's woman had come along and played the cock block. She shook her head, the yellow fuzz of her hair falling back in it's place, and he snapped himself out of it. _Must be in her good books by now,_ he thought, still watching that white smile of hers.

"You still pissed at me?" he asked her straight, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck and putting a little distance between the two of them.

"A little," Laurel told him, leaning back from the bed. "We really could have done with your help last night. And you did tell me you'd come."

"Weren't nobody needed my help, darlin'," he told her, closing his eyes.

"You know that's not true."

Their eyes locked onto each other for a lingering moment, before a brisk walk was heard moving up the corridor. Laurel excused herself hurriedly as Hershel entered.

"That the good book in your pocket or you just happy to see me?" Merle jibed, resting his knee up on the bed. The two began to talk, and their speech faded away as Laurel found her way back downstairs.

**~oOo~**

Axel, Daryl and Michonne were waiting, geared up in the SWAT vests and other equipment, ready to drive out.

"Be careful out there," Carol said to them all, "straight there and straight back."

"Any sign of trouble," said Rick, having just come in from checking the perimeter with Glenn, "and you head straight back. Make sure one of you is on watch the whole time; bring back as much as you can, and do it as quickly as possible."

The volunteers nodded and gathered up their essentials; the emergency bag, their helmets, guns, and spare ammo. Axel and Laurel had both been bequeathed the heavy-duty riot batons as they had no immediate weapons of their own.

"I'm going too," Carl said, loading up his weapon. The entire group shook their heads and Carl scoffed in retaliation.

"Why not?! I know what to do, I'm quick, and I'm a good shot-"

"That's enough," Rick said. "It's decided. You're a child, Carl."

"So's Laurel- she's only seventeen, remember!"

"Laurel is old enough to-"

"It's _stupid!_" Carl shouted, "you're letting her go rather than me, and she doesn't even know how to shoot properly, never mind-!"

"Boy, imma smack you so hard your grand-kiddies 'll come out behavin' if you don't learn some respect pronto," Merle called, jogging down the steps followed by Hershel on his sticks.

"I'll handle it, thanks," Rick scolded, kneeling down to Carl's level. His son reeled at the gesture and continued to fight his corner.

"You're a child," Rick repeated. "You're _my_ child. That makes you my responsibility and I'm telling you-"

"Let's get to it," Merle beckoned to the others, leaning his metallic forearm, complete now with it's blade, against the thick Jacobean-esque desk they'd brought in from the Warden's office and continued, "unless y'all want to sit around and wait for the Governor to come make another house-call before we've got the equipment needed to survive out in the wild."

Sharply the other members of the volunteer group began to ready themselves, checking supplies of ammunition and adjusting the SWAT equipment they had been bequeathed. Each put on their helmets, accompanied by Rick as they made their way outside; Rick's helmet concealed his taught face as he tried to avoid looking at the balcony where he might see Lori. Quickly he lead the others over to the car after a nod from Maggie up in the guard tower and stood to their side as the five got in, Daryl in the driving seat.

"You've got a full tank," Rick reassured them, "be as quick as you can. Any trouble, abandon the mission and just come home, alright?"

The five nodded, shutting their doors as Daryl revved the engine.

"Wish us luck," Axel smiled, a little edgy at the prospect of going out into the world.

"We're sure as hell gon' need it," Merle acknowledged, tapping his hand on the dashboard of the truck they were taking. Rick ran out and opened up the fence, slamming it back shut as soon as the group were out.

_**AN: This is completely irrelevant to this chapter, guys, but I thought it might make you smile; for a further chapter I had to research whether or not Georgia has mosquitoes (as being English, I know nothing of these magical sun-blessed lands- people of Georgia and other sunny places, I envy you), and ended up reading a TEN PAGE ESSAY on the Mosquitoes of Georgia. WHAT A WASTE OF MY LIFE!**_

_****__**USELESS FACT: Did you know there are 3,500 species of Mosquito? Well now you do. So don't say I don't teach you anything.**_


	14. Chapter 14: Scavengers

_**AN: In which Merle does Merleish things**_

**Chapter Fifteen:**

**Scavengers**

"Keep your helmets on, kiddies," Merle advised the group, "Gov might not be too far out from here."

"The store we're gettin' the supplies from's only a couple miles out," Daryl told the others, as they drove through the gathered Walkers and out of the ripped gates, "then the highway where we get gas from's about another mile at most. We'll be there and back before you can say Jack Daniels." Daryl drove quickly but quietly through the deserted streets- as they got further out it became apparent that they wouldn't be disturbed by the Governor's men, at least not right now.

"I wasn't expecting it to be quite so... _empty,_" Axel mused, staring out of his window; Laurel and Michonne sat beside him, Laurel having been demoted to the middle seat as the youngest inhabitant. She watched the narrow world through the gap between the seats of the Dixon brothers; all was dust and concrete, scattered leaves and tree branches the only call of nature. The occasional Walker could be seen, lost amongst the still nothingness of the world as though looking for some sense of purpose, walking forwards ceaselessly in search of something, anything that breathed life.

"Here it is," Daryl called after a while longer of silent driving, carefully pulling up the car into the parking lot of an average sized shopping mart, right up by the doors; they were barred up with two metal filing cabinets. Merle asked who the hell had been messing with the place and Daryl explained that each time they had left after coming here to gather supplies, they'd replace the cabinets to stop Walkers getting in and so that they'd know if any humans had been around. The windows of the store had also been barred up, with all sorts of things from plastic sheeting to wooden floor panels serving as barricades.

"So they don't all gather around the place when we get inside," Daryl explained, opening up the car door. A couple of Walkers were milling near the entrance, and they stirred at the sound, lulling towards the vehicle. "Heads up," Daryl called, swinging his crossbow forwards and penetrating the sodden skull of the first Walker with a red-feathered bolt.

"Right behind ya," Merle drawled, jumping out and driving his bladed hand right up through the forehead of the second. The faceless creatures dropped quickly to the ground, and the group gathered next to the truck.

"Someone'll stay out here and keep an eye out for anything funny," Daryl instructed, "the rest of us go on in, grab everything we can and just load up the boot. Remember what we said, quick as we can. If anything goes down at the prison-"

"Well then let's stop talkin' about it and get in there, Twinkle Toes," Merle interrupted, shifting the first filing cabinet out of the way and calling for assistance.

"I'll watch the door," Michonne said, pulling her helmet further down and freeing her Katana blade. She held it at her side and took watch of the entrance like a guard dog.

"Here we go," called Laurel, opening up the supplies bag from the seat of the car and taking out a roll of black trash bags. "These should do to put all the supplies in, and it'll keep them dry if it rains on the way back, too." She handed a bag to each of the men going inside the store and kept another for herself, replacing the reel back atop the hood of the truck. The group headed inside the darkened store, which seemed strangely eerie without the bustle and life of every day shoppers. The spookiness soon died away as the group became aware of the rancid smell.

"Christ," Merle choked, "smells like something crawled up the ass of this place and died."

"That's all the rotten stuff," Daryl recalled, pointing to the far right of the shop, "fresh fruit and veg isle's over there. Stay clear of it, t's pretty gross- ain't that fresh no more."

Soon enough, once they were able to block out the astringent, clenched stench of the place, they became excitable over their findings.

"The hell is all this still doing here?!" Merle called from the alcohol isle, "y'all found a place full to the keg of booze and you haven't drank it all?"

Merle began to drop clanking bottles of cheap wines and champagnes into his first bag, cans of Guinness and cider, goblets of rum and vodka.

"You won't be able to stand straight if you take all that," Daryl called from the next isle, where he was scooping up packets of pot noodles and just-add-water pastas into his bin liner.

"And I'll be glad of it!" Merle grinned, using the hinge of one of the display stands to crack open a bottle of beer. He tossed the luke warm liquid quickly down his throat; it wasn't refreshing exactly, but it felt damn good to taste the sweet stuff again.

"What if the governor does turn up, and you're pissed out of your senses?" Daryl scolded, though he couldn't deny the temptation that came with the promise of a well-deserved beer.

"Then I'll hand him over a can and we'll sing away our blues till the sun comes up," Merle sang, heaving two six-packs under his metal prosthetic and carrying his prizes out to the car. Michonne gave him a disapproving look as he exited the building, hauling the alcohol one-handed into the back of the open truck.

"Thought we were here for necessities," she drawled darkly, hearing the clink of the bottles and cans; Merle writhed a little. This was the first time she'd spoken to him since he'd come back with them to the prison.

"Gotta leave some room for recreation," Merle defended, dropping the six packs in after the strained bag. "Woman like you oughta learn about such things."

"I've had more important things to think about," she replied with a gaze of stone, and Merle felt it hit him hard in a wave, like she was a feline that'd just flared her coat up at him.

"You know, those things I did," he tried, not looking at her, "just... following orders. Nothing personal against you or your Andrea."

_My Andrea, _Michonne noted.

"We weren't together," she told him coldly, gathering that's what he'd meant.

"Oh, come on, don't crush a man's dreams. All those cold winter nights, just the two of ya and your pet Biters huddled up over a snug campfire and y'all didn't even get no action?"

"I don't swing that way. Neither does she."

"Ya feel like swingin' over this way?" He mused with a wink. Michonne smirked back at him, rolling a finger over the the Katana at her side.

"If I did, you'd be adding your little friend to the list of body parts you're missing."

"Ooh," Merle seethed through his teeth, acknowledging the sting of her insult. "You're wrong about the_ 'little'_ part, though."

Michonne unsheathed her blade a little, and Merle laughed, shifting his prosthetic as it slid down his arm.

"But back to the matter at hand-" he wiggled his fingers- "no hard feelings, hm? All business. Just doin' what I had to do to get by."

"Like the Gustapo," Michonne noted, "the KGB."

Merle shrugged, loosening the compact fabric of the stab vest from his chest a little. "All I'm sayin' is, the past is passed." Laurel was bringing out her first bag, which looked to be filled with cans of food. "Done a lot of things in my life I can't say I'm proud of. Before and after," Merle concluded to Michonne, lifting up Laurel's bag into the back of the truck as the girl ripped off another two trash liners for their use. "Just don't want there to be any stigma twixt the two of us, seein' as we're gonna be livin' with each other an all."

Michonne continued to eye him defensively, having no idea what to make of him. Merle shrugged at the woman, and started to follow Laurel back inside the building.

"Was that an apology?" Laurel smirked quietly, the threat of a smile twitching on her lips as she said it.

"Well, that's all the woman's gonna get," Merle grunted, disappearing down the tinned produce isle with his second bag. Laurel found herself in the confectionery isle, pouring packets of cinema-bagged chocolates and long-life packaged biscuits into her bag. She opened up a packet of gum, placing a strip between her lips, and carried on her looting.

"Baby food!" Daryl shouted across the shop, "we gotta remember lots of it; all they got, if we can fit it."

"I"m on it," called Axel's voice from the isle adjacent to Laurel's. She threw packets upon packets of potato chips, nuts and dried vegetable crisps into the bag, upon which point the liner became full; she set about depositing it in the back of the truck, taking out a third bag, and found the toiletries isle; she imagined cleanliness and hygiene restored to them all and, feeling as though she had come across a wonderland, began to throw into the liner handfuls of electric toothbrushes, tubes of paste, a few bottles of mouthwash and a couple of reels of floss; she moved into the body section, throwing in bottles of the best quality shampoos, body washes and conditioners the store had, along with a jumbo packet of disposable razors, countless cans of deodorant and, unable to resist, half a dozen products from the make-up counter, just for fun.

"You done yet, Laurel?!" Daryl shouted from the entrance of the store.

"Almost!"

"The hell's takin' you so long, girl?" Merle cried over to her, having loaded up his last bag a good few minutes ago.

"I'm getting... girl things!" Laurel shouted, as she filled up the remainder of the bag with all the sanitary products they had in store; a thing the men had bypassed but would clearly be heavily appreciated by the women.

Merle and Daryl gave each other an uncomfortable look, then Daryl hollered, "Axel, where you at, man?!"

"Just grabbin' some pharmaceuticals, if ya follow me!" Axel cried out, pushing every medical product the pharmacy counter had to offer into his second bag.

Merle's face lit up and Daryl put his arm out by his chest.

"Don't you even think on goin' back for a high," Daryl warned, edging Merle out of the door.

"Spoil sport, man," Merle barked at his little brother, moving over to one of two cars abandoned in the parking lot, a grey hulking thing that may have once been a Chevvy. He tried it for gas, but the thing was pretty much dry; instead he opened it up at the driver's side and got in. Jesus it was old, didn't even have a CD player. Merle prized open the dashboard's glove box and grinned at what he discovered there. "Well, look what we have here!" He mused, pulling free a portable disc player. He held the thing in his hand, touched the lead button and the machine lit up faintly; Merle clicked eject and a disc wound it's way free of the machine, metallic side up; Merle turned it on it's head and grinned. "Lookey here, Darlena!" Merle shouted out to his brother, holding the disk out so Daryl could see, "found us some Motorhead- it's 'Ace of Spades'!"

"Great," Daryl droned sarcastically, turning back to the store entrance; "Hey, Axel, they got any of those water purification tablets?"

"You're more likely to find a diamond up a cow's ass," Merle reasoned, "'sides, boy, don't you cuss Motorhead. Got me through some cold nights back in the day."

"Wouldn't have had none of those _'cold nights'_ in the first place if you'd kept clean," Daryl muttered to him. Merle grimaced at his brother, flicking his hand out at him like he were a bug to be swatted, and shouted out,

"Keep an eye out for something with a kick, Axel; I'm gonna grab some batteries before this beauty dies."

Merle sprang past Michonne and Daryl on his way back into the shop, having left the disc player on the seat of the car he'd invaded.

"If he comes back with a high, I'll put an arrow through his face," Daryl muttered to himself, bracing his crossbow in his hand.

"We got water and every thing?" Michonne asked him, nodding over to the nearly-filled truck.

"Plenty of it, cordials and stuff too, got some soda but it'll probably be flat. Still, better that drinking piss, I guess."

"Nearly done," Laurel called, carrying out the bag of products and putting them in the truck. Axel followed behind, twisting the top of the bag of drugs and popping it in the open vehicle.

"Wait, you goin' back in?" Daryl asked in surprise as Laurel grabbed for another bag and headed for the door.

"Just two more minutes," Laurel begged, "they've got a clothes isle that's barely been touched- and quite frankly, guys... we stink. No offense."

Daryl nodded at the girl and she pranced back inside, over to the clothing section she'd found- quickly she grabbed at the clothing, trying to stick to practicalities but being swayed by the occasional feature rather than functional item, a loose lemon yellow dress, a thin emerald skirt that she thought would suit Maggie perfectly. With a bag full to the brim of clothing, Laurel bent down to pick up the clothing- and felt something grab at her sides. Laurel half-screamed, her hands moving to close at her sides as she squirmed, and felt not two hands but a hand and something metal- thick laughter accompanied the sound and she almost collapsed with relief.

"Merle!" She gasped, pushing him roughly away, but he held on, squeezing her side again, "you crazy-!"

"I got ya," Merle teased, ruffling his hand through the back of her hair, having shamelessly managed to cop a feel as she squirmed, "didn't Merle get ya? M-hm, I did. Nearly pissed yourself Cher-"

"I thought you were a bloody Walker, you mad bastard," Laurel huffed with half a laugh of mixed shock and relief, "I nearly died of shock-"

"I doubt that," Merle teased, eyeing her ass as she bent quickly to pick up the black bag of clothes, "You done here?"

Laurel looked at him a second, a questioning expression on her face.

"What are you back in for? I thought you'd finished..."

"Just grabbin' a few little extras, y'know?" He chimed with a fiendish smile.

Laurel shook her head, glanced down to his full pockets and held out her free hand. _He's been at the drug isle,_ she thought, shaking her head.

"Give them to me. Now."

"Don't talk to me like I'm yer dog," Merle said, rolling his eyes, and tapping what she wouldn't see were the packets of batteries stuffed down into his front pockets. "they ain't gonna hurt nobody. If I want a little m-"

"Give it!" Laurel demanded, curling her fingers at him like a scolding mother.

"You want 'em so bad," Merle grinned cruelly, "get 'em yerself, toots." He gestured to his trouser pockets and held his arms out at his sides invitingly. Laurel gave him a scolding look and he winked at her over his smirk, knowing he'd won; Laurel pulled the bin liner up over her arm, and pushed him in the shoulder as she started to walk away.

"You're awful," she groaned, rolling her eyes, and Merle chuckled and went up after her.

"Was worth a shot," he grinned, watching her as she walked ahead.

**~oOo~**

"Best put the sheet over, save any of it flyin' out," Axel suggested, rolling the thick plastic cover of the truck out on the car park floor. Merle appeared with Laurel, dumped the bag of clothing atop the truck and took the drivers seat.

"Aww, look!" Laurel chimed, gesturing over into the near woods, "a cat!"

A looming creature was crouched low in the dry grasses, it's acute yellow eyes watching the survivors intently.

"Hey, kitty cat," Laurel purred to the animal, it's long back arched.

"You say kitty cat," Daryl mused, pulling his cross bow off his shoulder and lifting it to eye level, "I say dinner."

"Don't!" Laurel called, swinging her head back at him quickly, "come on, Daryl, leave him alone."

"Didn't know we had a cat whisper in the group," Daryl murmured, but put the bow down regardless.

Laurel bent low on the concrete and summoned the creature to her with extended fingers; very cautiously, the scrawny tabby slicked through the long grasses of the surrounding area and close to Laurel, who reached out a little further, cooing at the thing like it was a baby. The cat nudged her fingers and let her stroke her hands down his spine as he curled around her. Merle watched her in disbelief from the drivers seat; it was like someone had turned on a switch and she'd melted into a pool of maternal affection. He'd never understand what it was with some women and cats; it was like they had some secret code going on, some innate connection that excluded the male species. "How could you want to eat him?" Laurel voiced, still in her mock-baby voice, "he's gorgeous. Aren't you, baby?"

"Give me strength," Daryl murmured.

Itching under the cat's chin, Laurel found a collar- she gently tugged at it's tab and found a little shiny purple twist-up container made from cheap tin. She unscrewed it and took out the piece of paper- in bold writing, which looked like it belonged to a very elegant hand, she read the message;

_GINGER_

_IF FOUND, PLEASE CALL: 404 228 5195_

"Well, I've found you, Ginge," Laurel said, scratching the cat's ears. "Don't think any one would pick up if I phoned home, though, I'm afraid."

A thick purr came from the feline as he caressed his ears needily against the palm of Laurels hand; poor thing looked to be a house cat, affection starved and in need of a little TLC._ If only humans were innately equipped to survive out in the wild like this creature was,_ Laurel thought. _Would make all this a hell of a lot easier._

"Hang on a sec, chick," Laurel whispered to her feline friend, getting back up and walking to the store doors again.

"One minute," she called, and Merle rolled his eyes. Damn girl was a nut case.

She came back through the doors not long after with a bottle of long-life cat milk, a can of tuna in one hand and one of cat food in the other; she came up and knocked on Merle's window, who with a slow, expectant expression wound it down.

"Would you mind?" She asked sweetly, handing him the can of cat food- he gave it a sour look and she scolded him.

"Don't give me that," she said, "your knife has had way worse than cat food on it. Come on."

Lazily he stuck the can through with his bayonet, cutting a circle around and leaving it open.

"Merci," Laurel quipped, taking the can over to the cat, who had retreated back into the grasses; the smell of the food drew him back out, and Laurel pumped the can upside down against the concrete like it was a sandcastle, then used the side of it to crush the meat down.

"There you go little buddy," Laurel cooed, pulling the ring from the can of tuna and setting that beside the processed food. She poured the milk into the shallow tuna can and left her new friend to it.

Axel and Daryl fixed it up the protective sheet while Michonne and Laurel proceeded to replace the silver filing cabinets before the now closed doors of the store.

Merle watched Michonne as she went about swooping off to decapitate one more approaching Walker before they left. Jesus, that woman was feisty; if she was that fierce in combat, she must be an animal under the covers. Great ass, too, even if she was lacking in the tits department. She wasn't his usual arrangement- or colour- but if it was there it ought be appreciated by someone, he reckoned.

But then there was the girl; Merle watched Laurel, remembering again with a smirk how she'd reacted when he'd nearly got his lips on her in the yard, like it was the craziest thing to be up so close. Never had a woman like that- they'd always been sharp as a knife and twice as deadly, the type who were good for a solid fuck and didn't expect much else, thank God. There'd been a lot of women like that back home, bikers girlfriends and daughters who knew how to handle themselves against the redneck trash they'd come by and who only wanted one thing, a thing that Merle was more than happy to give 'em since they were asking. There had been a few he'd ended up living with in his time, but it never lasted more than a couple months- they'd get sick of his addiction or the way he'd talk to their kids from prior relationships, and he'd storm out running his mouth at the bitch, belongings raining down upon him from the window of some backstreet apartment, jump on his bike and score in some dive, then find a new tough-skinned woman to screw around with. Let the cycle repeat itself.

But this little angel was so sugar-coated and innocent, and he almost had no idea to react to that. Well, his body told him just how he should be reacting, but he knew she wouldn't want that, doubted she was even ready for it. He could see she was feeling something for him, crazy as it seemed; soft little thing like her having a crush on a Dixon. All the signs were there, even if they weren't being shown in their normal way- the way she'd blush sometimes and get a little het up, but the thing itself still didn't make no sense. Maybe it was just the power he packed, the cigarette-choked drawl of his voice that made his tones loop like caramel. The ghost of her burning skin was still imprinted on his rough hand- he could still feel her there, the quick pulse of her lilac veins buzzing beneath it, and he thought about how he might set up another little game like that with her. Hell, he could use a bit of excitement, and where better to get it than a sweet little piece like her? Sure he'd have to hold back- _still a kid,_ he reminded himself- but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little bit of fun with her, did it? Oil the old Dixon charm, save it getting rusty?

Daryl moved quickly, beckoning all inside the vehicle as Merle mercilessly revved up the engine, the thought of all the things he could do with that little sweetheart laying on his mind.

"Come on, y'all, we don't got all day. Get in the frickin' car."

**AN: **

**If you call the number in this chapter, you may well find a crazy old Atlantan cat lady. I, however, will not be testing this theory as I am poor and shall not be paying the extortionate across-pond ammount just to find out ;D**


	15. Chapter 15: Carnage

_**AN: In which S**t hits the fan**_

**Chapter Sixteen:**

**Carnage**

_Merle mercilessly revved up the engine, the thought of all the things he could do with that little sweetheart laying on his mind._

_"Come on, y'all, we don't got all day. Get in the frickin' car."_

Laurel said goodbye to her feline friend, ruffling her short fingers over his fuzzy head as he masticated his way through the ample supply of food, purring incessantly. The others got in the truck and slammed their doors shut, a little tetchy at the prospect of Merle being behind the wheel; If his driving was as erratic as his personality, they could have a problem on their hands.

"Does anyone want gum?" Laurel offered, taking the strips she'd salvaged from her pocket as she slipped into the car, shuffling over Michonne awkwardly to the middle seat.

"Send some my way, sugar," Merle drawled, purposely laying the words down thick and turning his head with his mouth open up expectantly, watching her. Laurel unwrapped a strip and placed it awkwardly between his teeth. Daryl furrowed his brow at the gesture and Merle winked at him, a short sharp gesture that made Daryl a little uncomfortable. "Let's go, girls and boys," the eldest Dixon grinned, testing out the feel of the truck. It was a battered old thing, scuffed all up the interior and in need of a little TLC. Well, he sure as hell wasn't planning on showin' her any mercy once he put his foot down.

"You sure you drivin's such a good idea?" Daryl asked with concern, gesturing faintly to Merle's absent hand. "I'll do it if you want-"

"I'm missin' one hand, not both," Merle snapped, slamming his foot down, "I ain't some sort of cripple, and I ain't a damn retard like you, Darlena. Besides, you know what they say about _women_ drivers..."

Daryl opened his mouth to cuss his brother back, but with a sudden erratic burst he roared the car into life and backed the vehicle out of the parking lot at full acceleration, swerving as he did so; those in the car yelped in protest at the sudden speed and Merle thundered the truck on wards, cackling to himself.

"Slow down, dumb-ass!" Daryl roared, grabbing for the wheel as Merle purposely swerved left and right, laughing to himself loudly.

"Take out your tampon, Darlene," Merle teased, "Just tryin' to have some fun..."

"You scared away my cat," Laurel said a little disgruntled, looking out of the back window.

"To hell with the damn cat."

Merle reversed the vehicle a little, gaining leverage over the road; he let out an agitated growl as realization overcame him and he remembered the little hand radio he'd found. He began to reverse down the strip of the road, jolting the suspension.

"Forgot my damn Motorhead, for fucks sake-"

There was a sudden burst of distinctly human noise, and everyone in the car's heads snapped around; including Merle's, causing the vehicle to swerve sideways off course. A group of about five men were emerging from the side of the supermarket building.

"The hell?" Daryl breathed, holding onto the frame of his door and looking back at the supermarket. His other hand clutched for his crossbow.

"Is it the Governor's lot?" Laurel asked uneasily, watching as more figures appeared from around the side. The heads of the people were turned in the direction of their truck full of supplies.

"Well, we shouldn't risk stickin' around to find out," Axel said, then squinted at the group of men who had appeared; they were holding-

"Ah shit, got guns, looks like they're loadin'-!"

A rain of gunfire suddenly tore through the air, and the car full of survivors dropped their heads to their knees, all but Merle, who was trying to crank the pedal with his foot as he sunk low into his chair.

"Head down and step on it!" Daryl snapped at his brother, pulling Merle down by the front of his shirt protectively, but Merle already had his one hand strapped to the wheel and the engine revved as he sunk down lower in his seat; the car continued forwards at the speed Merle had initiated, but not before a bullet could break it's way through the back window; Laurel gave a shriek as it bypassed her head and lodged itself deep in the motten plastic of the dashboard.

"Keep y'all heads down!" Daryl choked, working his one hand at the old wind-up window so he could shoot out of it if need be.

They turned the corner at the end of the long stretch of road, where the gunfire was unable to reach them any longer, but the car persisted, the gun shots fading away into the distance.

"Keep on goin'!" Axel cried, head still down in his helmet as he held an arm over Laurel's back.

"What the hell was that?!" Michonne demanded as she lifted her head, securing her helmet back around her face, though it was clear no-one really knew what had gone on.

"We just got attacked, that's what," Merle yapped, hyped up as he forced the car along, "now where in the hell am I goin'?!"

"I- it's a left here," Daryl called up, sitting straight in his seat now, "Just move up, and quick, 'case they come up after us- need to get off the road-"

"They don't need to come up after us," Merle told Daryl and the others, "they're just warnin' us off, I reckon; they know where we're livin' so there's no need to go chasin' us, not unless the whole group's up and leavin' for good..."

"But what if they do?" Laurel gambled, fumbling with the helmet around her head and shaking the shattered glass from her shoulders, "if they follow us, it'll just be a rat race of who runs out of gas first-"

"We should hide out the night," Michonne suggested, "leave the car, just hide out in the woods-"

"You crazy?!" Axel burst with a flood of nervous laughter, "night out in the pitch black, no protection- the others'll be worried sick if we're not back before it starts gettin' dark."

"Michonne might be right," Laurel blustered, "if we just park up the car some place around here- head off into the trees with some of the supplies, that emergency bag Carol gave us-"

"Car'd stick out like a sore thumb," Daryl pointed out, "if they didn't find us in the nearby woods, they'd take all our supplies and probably our truck, too. We're best off carryin' on like we planned, goin' up on the highway- there's a load of backed up cars up there, they wouldn't notice us if they drove past lookin' for us-"

"They ain't gonna come lookin'," Merle growled, getting frustrated now as he carried the car up the dirt road, "why are you people even discussin' staying out the night? Ain't no need. I know this guy, the way he thinks- He ain't comin' after us. He likes playin' these games. That little fiasco was just to get y'all rallied, just like you are now," Merle concluded. "I say we pull a u-turn and take back to the prison, pronto."

"We need gas for all the cars back there," Daryl hollered as Merle made to turn the steering wheel, "we can't just drive back without-"

"-Fine, we'll drive up to that highway. Can tap a couple up there, then turn right around and take a straight run back to the prison. We'll be back sharpish, just like we said we would."

"I don't like this," Axel drawled, questioning inwardly whether it was safe to remove his helmet.

"Me niether," Laurel agreed, and Michonne shook her head at Merle. "We should wait it out a little, even if it's just a couple of hours, it doesn't have to be all night; just to make sure they're gonna leave us be."

"They got us once we're in the prison," Merle told the others in a smooth voice, struggling to keep himself calm through the adrenaline surge, let alone the rest of them. "Governor'll be sure of that in his head, you believe me. They got no reason to play around with us out here, where the odds ain't even- just a waste of time and gas on their part."

"You sure it's gonna be safe driving back that way?" Laurel asked uneasily, plucking a shard of glass out of the side of her riot vest.

"I told you already, girl, they ain't gonna touch us. Worst they'll throw is a bullet or two maybe, if they're even still up there by the time we're ready to go, and we got helmets and vests for that. It's all for show. Everythin'll be honky dory."

The car fell quiet as Merle lead them quickly left and right via the miss-matched directions of Daryl. Eventually, the bridge which promised the highway's multitude of gas-filled vehicles appeared on the horizon.

"Hey," Laurel pointed out to Michonne, "this is the same place you and Rick found me-"

A horrific scream suddenly rang out from the direction of the highway bridge; Merle brought the truck up closer wearily, crawling it across the baked Southern ground, where the group could see about half a dozen Walkers battling it out; something, be it human or Walker, fell from the edge of the bridge and into the perilous water below. Daryl squinted at the scene, and could see a figure atop a car, waving it's arms about madly.

"That's a woman," Daryl murmured quickly, hand on his car door, "pull us up, quick."

"Nuh-uh, sweet feet," Merle resisted, "ain't worth the riskin'- chick's dead, and the rest of 'em."

"Don't look dead to me," Daryl spat, noticing the other distinctly human figures struggling on the highway. There were three or four of them, and looked to be Mexican- one man was shooting wildly at the Walkers, but with no success. Another jumped from the bridge, and a Walker grabbed hungrily at the foot of another and tore the flesh from it with gnashing, splintered jaws.

"Good as," Merle shrugged, "I ain't riskin' my ass for a couple river-niggers who ain't never cooked me a meal or-"

"-There's ten of 'em at most, we can take 'em easy-!"

Merle protested again, but quick as he could try Daryl opened up the door of the car and rolled himself out onto the pavement; with a cry of 'you little shit!" Merle pulled up the car and got out after him, grabbing hold of his hand gun; Michonne and Axel both followed his lead, Michonne already with her katana out, and as Laurel shuffled over to make her escape she heard Merle cry from afar, "stay in the car, kid!"

"Not bloody likely!" Laurel cried out after him, scraping herself from the vehicle.

There was another almighty scream and Laurel snapped her head around; the woman who had been stood on the car was being dragged down it by the hands of bumbling, clumsy Walkers.

"Shit-" She hissed, slamming shut the car door, helmet askew, and hopping as fast as she could through the maze of abandoned cars; she took the baton from the clip in her belt, approaching the group, her gun wrenched up in her back pocket; Daryl's crossbow was whizzing wildly at everything and anything and Merle was just pulling the clips into his gun as he kicked away an approaching Walker, taunting it as he went; Michonne swung her wild blade quickly and swiftly decapitated the closest beast, it's head swinging loose and flopping to the floor, hitting the bonnet of a car on it's way down.

"Duck!" Laurel cried, as a Walker came up behind Axel whilst he struck another in the face; Axel followed Laurel's clockwork instruction and she slammed her baton as hard as she could across the head of the hungry beast, while Axel grabbed it's legs and pulled it's squabbling rotten form down to the ground; the one that had been in front of Axel now lunged at Laurel, and she pushed it away by it's mangled chest desperately, reaching into her back pocket for her gun-

"Down, boy!" Merle growled, and Laurel jumped back, stunned for a second, as the blade which served as Merle's other hand entered the skull of the wrangling creature at a disjointed angle, his other hand grabbing the back of it's head for good leverage- Merle withdrew the swift blade and the pulsating glob of Walker let out a small groan as it slipped to the dusty ground.

Laurel stared at him in awe a moment, sweat dripping from his brow as his chest heaved, an effervescence of energy zapping off him. Merle gave her a wink and saluted briefly with his bladed arm before moving over to his next groaning target, bayonet swinging and satiated with the thick black blood of his assailants.

"Little help!" Axel yelped as he wrestled with the hungry beast on the concrete- Laurel snapped back into reality and quickly put one foot down on the thing's forehead to hold it's head down, then yelled at Axel for him to keep a hold of it's arms; Laurel found the gun from her back pocket and unlatched the safety with fumbling fingers; she may not have been taught how to hit a target, but close range would be easy, wouldn't it? She held the weapon as close to it's head as she dared, barely talking a moment to think that she was about to kill something, actually kill something dead, then whipped her foot away and closed her eyes as she pounded a bullet through the thing's soft head. She heard it's gargling roars cease and held out a hand to help Axel to his feet, being careful not to look at the dispatched creature. It was then, as she pulled Axel up, that she realized the carnage was over; the others had finished off the rest of the beasts swiftly. The survivors stood at a distance to something, something that was gargling and gasping for hollow breath, something that was wavering between life and death in a blood-crazed frenzy.

Some_one._

Laurel stepped closer, her breath held tight in her throat as she looked down.

"Oh my God..."

**AN: DUN DUNN DUNNNNNNNNN! D:**

**R&R!**


	16. Chapter 16: Living Death

**Chapter Eighteen:**

**Burnt Bones**

Merle lit up one of the firmer cigarettes he'd acquired with a lighter Daryl had kept in his pocket for the times they managed to come across smokes. He placed the filter in his lips and held it there, the smoke drifting away without being inhaled, whilst he lit Daryl and Axel's cigarettes for them. Merle offered one to Michonne, but she shook her head briskly and moved to the other side of the vehicle to avoid the astringent smoke.

"Damn, that fells good," Axel breathed, drawing in a scalding breath of the stuff as he closed his eyes.

"Hell right it does," Merle agreed, letting the smoke waft it's way through his body. Years of the habit and worse had glued his lungs, giving him an even rougher tone to his Southern drawl than he'd been christened with and leaving him prone to the occasional coughing fit in the colder nights; he looked over at his little brother, a ciggy pressed between his thin mouth, and wondered If smoking was just another of his bad habits his little brother had followed him into.

"Fuck off," Daryl spat at an incessantly buzzing mosquito, who was out far too early in the day. The creature danced about the heads of the group before attempting to settle it's grip on Axel's skin, where the bug was quickly crushed out of existence. With a grimace, Axel wiped the dark smear of blood from his forearm and onto the sleeve of his shirt.

"Ain't drinkin' _my_ blood, you little bastard... damn 'squitos all over the bastard place," he muttered, rolling back his shoulders. "'ve always given me the creeps... not as much as those things, though." Axel pointed back to the group of cars where they had ended the unnatural lives of the group of rambling Walkers, their congealed corpses lumped over the torsos of the cars and lying against the dirt of the road. Daryl saw that Laurel had taken the blanket from atop the car they'd prepared for Sophia, and it now lay over the half-eaten corpse of the baby's mother.

"We done here?" Daryl asked quickly, not wanting to think about all that had happened. He drew in another greedy drag, and Merle nodded.

"We got plenty fuel now," Axel affirmed, beckoning for another cigarette and chaining the two, feeling the bitter burn deep in his chest as he dragged his foot over the discarded filter, vanquishing the subtle flame of the rod.

Laurel was already inside the truck cradling the baby, who was wrapped securely in his tartan blanket and gurgling softly. His distress had calmed in the last few minutes or so, and he now seemed almost at peace. Chubby arms waved up curiously to Laurel's face- regardless of this, she looked almost completely vacant, staring ahead as though the world was an utter mystery to her. Daryl noticed how stoic she looked through the glazed glass of the window and muttered,

"She's feelin' it now. What the world's really like."

"She's not the only one," Axel drawled quietly, "really brings it home, seein' it out here."

"Well, this is the way the world is now," Merle rolled swiftly, "she had to learn it sometime. Better sooner than later, learnin' it at the hands of the Cyclops and his band of merry-fucking-men."

"Maybe... I dunno, maybe someone ought talk to her. See if she's alright."

The three exchanged uncomfortable looks, no one willing to take up the task; emotional women were not the strong point of any member of the trio.

"Let 'Chonne do it," Merle dismissed, looking over to where the other woman was- she was at a distance to them now, silent as an assassin as her blade swung above her head, blood licking her riot vest as she thrust the sword into the caving skull of a large Walker who had thought it in her better interests to peruse her way up close to the highway. "We ain't got no business dealing with it- let the women sort each other out. They hang around each other long enough, they sync up, don't they? They gotta understand each other on some level."

Daryl didn't seem settled with it. "Just- ask her if she's alright or somethin'- she knows you better than me or Ax."

"What am I, an agony aunt?"

Merle rolled his eyes back in protest, but knocked his bayonet against the window all the same. Laurel glanced over to the glass, seemingly surprised to find anyone else was around- Merle mouthed to her, asking if she was alright, and she gave a false little nod, working a plastered smile onto her white face.

"There," Merle grumbled to Daryl and Axel, "Auntie Merle's done his job. Now C'mon. Let's haul ass outta here," Merle proclaimed quickly as he straightened back up, voice like leather, as he butt out the half-burned cigarette with the rubber sole of his shoe.

"Me and Darlena here are gonna drive this baby back with us so we've got another vehicle spare," he told Axel, bumping the front of a run down Chevy, "Y'all take the truck on back... least one of you knows how to drive, right?"

"I'll drive," Michonne declared, sweeping swiftly into the command side of the big blue truck.

"You got a spare helmet for the little man?" Axel asked the air with a chuckle, but nothing responded but the soft yelp of the infant.

"Drive slow," Merle told them, hopping in the passenger's side of the seven-seater Chevrolet he and Daryl had chosen. The canisters of petrol were piled up on the back seat, along with the CD collection Merle had insisted on bringing along.

"Let's go," Daryl called to the others from the driver's window, slapping his hand on the outside of the vehicle like it were a horse ready to be spurred on as he sucked on the dregs of his damp cigarette. Michonne manually unwound her own window and leant out to the two Dixons.

"You should wear your helmets," She instructed in a passive fashion, watching to see if they would take her advice; Merle shook his hand dismissively at her as Daryl revved the engine and drove on in front of them.

"You're people best appreciate this stuff after all the trouble we've gone to," Merle told his brother, tapping his arm out against the window.

"You talk 'sthough we're treating you like Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer," Daryl mused, "Ain't just _my _people anymore. You're part of the group now."

"Boy, f'your brain was dynamite you wouldn't have enough power to blow your own nose," Merle scolded him, "I musta told you a million times. I ain't part of this group."

"Why can't you just enjoy bein' a part of somethin', instead of playing the lone wolf card?" Daryl grumbled, spinning the wheel a little as they reached the sharp corner of the lengthy road.

"They don't want me," Merle reasoned; "and I don't want them either."

"Can't get along without people no more, man," Daryl told his brother, "gotta calm yourself and get along, even if there's some of 'em you ain't ever gonna like. You've got friends here now, and that ain't just wishful thinkin'. Gotta grin and bare it, y'know?"

"I ain't changin' for no man," Merle spat, clocking his jaw and stabbing his blade into the rubber of the truck's door habitually. "'F they don't like Merle, they can suck it and fuck off. D'you think they really care that much about _you?_ Look who they've sent you out here with: Me and that dark diva, who they just can't wait to get rid of, then Axel and the girl, who none of 'em proper care about yet- they ain't got no ties with these people. None of us have, 'cept _you._ Doesn't that tell you somethin' about how they feel about ya, that you've been lumped out here with us rejects?"

"They sent me cuz I know I'm best for the job," Daryl corrected, though his brothers words were making him doubt his own reasoning.

"Get off your high horse," Merle slurred at Daryl, "you're blind, kiddo. Followin' the crowd, that ain't the Dixon way; hell, even you're startin' to give me that look like I'm the Devil. Just you remember, you ain't exactly the milky bar kid yourself now, are ya? Gonna try tellin' me you ain't done bad things for good reason since the dead stopped stayin' that way?"

Daryl went to retaliate, but then thought of Randall.

"There- there's been a couple things, yeah. But they were deserved, I ain't gonna feel bad about it." Daryl felt he needed to defend himself further. "There was this one kid, scrawny little shit that Rick and Hershel found, turned out he came from this heavy group of bastards that went around raping little girls." Daryl shook his head, remembering the story the boy had told him about the campsite they'd found with the guy and his two daughters. Thinking about it made him feel sick- he wished now he hadn't taken that cigarette.

"Deserved it," Daryl repeated under his breath. "Anyway, I just laid into him a little, didn't kill him or freak out and throw a damn Walker in his face like you would have."

Merle took the dig without retaliating, much to Daryl's surprise. Suddenly Merle felt he needed to ask his little brother a question, something he hadn't even thought of ever askin' him before.

"...You ever killed a real person since it all started? One who wasn't already dead?"

Daryl's head seemed to lower, even though he was driving. It took him a few minutes, but eventually he replied.

"Three, I think," he said it quietly, like there were others around who might hear. He'd never said it out loud before. "Shot the old man, Dale, from back in Atlanta cuz a walker got him and ripped him up; guess that don't really count since it was mercy, like. Then there was a couple of them Woodbury guys I must of killed when we went in to save Glenn and Maggie... maybe more than a couple."

The same question had been brewing on Daryl's mind for a long time now, but Daryl feared he should probably be asking_ 'how many?'_ rather than _'have you killed any?'_

Daryl het up the courage and asked his brother. Merle sucked in his bottom lip.

"Sixteen," Merle replied quietly, not sounding like himself. "I killed sixteen."

Daryl drew in a hot breath; he'd expected it to be a few, but not... Jesus Christ._ Sixteen people. _Living, breathing people. He found he couldn't look at Merle and was glad he had the excuse of driving so he wouldn't have to do so.

"Seventeen," Merle corrected himself coldly, bringing his hand up to the side of his mouth and shielding his face a little. "That Mexican woman back there makes it seventeen."

Unexpectedly he found he wanted to get it all off his chest; he felt like a shaken up bottle of soda that someone was twisting the cap off. He swallowed it back, holding that boy he'd done over in the woods- _Gargulio,_ he remembered- down. Daryl already knew Merle was rotten; if he found out he's mercilessly killed a kid in cold blood, just to save his own ass, he'd never look the same at him again. He couldn't have that, not when he'd only just got him back.

"I ain't proud of it," Merle confessed quietly, staring straight ahead through the gallant window of the vehicle, "I ain't proud."

Merle screwed his lid back on, and let silence take him for the rest of the ride.

**~oOo~**

Eventually the two vehicles neared the road with the supermarket.

"Go slow!" Merle directed the others, leaning out of his window and waving his arm at the car behind.

"Put your helmets on!" Laurel shouted back, annoyed, "we're coming up to the supermarket, they could still be there-!"

"You smell that?" Axel said quickly, drawing in a deep breath as a strong, charcoal smell invaded the truck through the shattered back window. "Smells like smoke."

"Must be those two again," Laurel eased, imagining Daryl and Merle to be puffing on cigarettes again. She took to looking out of the side window.

"Jesus- look."

Michonne and Axel followed Laurel's direction, looking out of the left window.

"Son of a bitch," Axel breathed; they had just turned the corner of the road where they had collected their supplies. The supermarket was no longer a building; it was a raging ball of fire, a hot yellow blaze of flame. The burning light of it had attracted a group of walkers, some of whom had indulged too far in their curiosity and were now themselves set alight like waxen candles, bumping into each other and passing on the deteriorating flames. One of the flaming walkers had found it's head pushed up against a tree, and was now spreading the warm flames through the reaching branches of the trees.

"Well," Daryl muttered to Merle, who was shaking his head at the burning building, "that's our supply nest gone."

"Get your heads down," Michonne instructed, crouching lower in the driver's seat. Laurel and Axel followed her instruction, Axel being careful to cradle the baby safely.

Cautiously the two trucks drove past the burning building, wary in case of any activity from Woodbury's defenses, but they had gone.

"Looks clear to me," Merle shouted back to the second vehicle, as Daryl boosted the speed of the car.

A couple of the flaming walkers had caught on to the movement, and began to trail after the truck in the back.

"Not to mither," Axel squirmed, as one of the burning creatures reached over dangerously close to the broken window, "but I think we should be getting a move on, you follow me?"

The flames of the mindless monster's burning flesh licked at the plastic sheeting covering the supplies, but a burst of speed from Michonne repealed the catch of flame.

"Sons of bitches took my damn radio," Merle scolded, looking out to where he'd left it atop the lone parked car. He shook his head, cursing under his breath.

"Those mother fuckers."

Daryl couldn't help but laugh at his brother through the smoke as they left the fire of the super store behind them. Merle reached across and smacked Daryl hard in the side of the head with his metal cast in retaliation.

"Ow... Bastard."

"Shut up, you whiny bitch. Drive."

The survivors drove on towards home, leaving the burning remains of their primary food source behind them.

**AN: #FireWalkers**

**short but sweet this time- thanks again for all your support!**


	17. Chapter 17: Burnt Bones

**Chapter Eighteen:**

**Burnt Bones**

Merle lit up one of the firmer cigarettes he'd acquired with a lighter Daryl had kept in his pocket for the times they managed to come across smokes. He placed the filter in his lips and held it there, the smoke drifting away without being inhaled, whilst he lit Daryl and Axel's cigarettes for them. Merle offered one to Michonne, but she shook her head briskly and moved to the other side of the vehicle to avoid the astringent smoke.

"Damn, that fells good," Axel breathed, drawing in a scalding breath of the stuff as he closed his eyes.

"Hell right it does," Merle agreed, letting the smoke waft it's way through his body. Years of the habit and worse had glued his lungs, giving him an even rougher tone to his Southern drawl than he'd been christened with and leaving him prone to the occasional coughing fit in the colder nights; he looked over at his little brother, a ciggy pressed between his thin mouth, and wondered If smoking was just another of his bad habits his little brother had followed him into.

"Fuck off," Daryl spat at an incessantly buzzing mosquito, who was out far too early in the day. The creature danced about the heads of the group before attempting to settle it's grip on Axel's skin, where the bug was quickly crushed out of existence. With a grimace, Axel wiped the dark smear of blood from his forearm and onto the sleeve of his shirt.

"Ain't drinkin' _my_ blood, you little bastard... damn 'squitos all over the bastard place," he muttered, rolling back his shoulders. "'ve always given me the creeps... not as much as those things, though." Axel pointed back to the group of cars where they had ended the unnatural lives of the group of rambling Walkers, their congealed corpses lumped over the torsos of the cars and lying against the dirt of the road. Daryl saw that Laurel had taken the blanket from atop the car they'd prepared for Sophia, and it now lay over the half-eaten corpse of the baby's mother.

"We done here?" Daryl asked quickly, not wanting to think about all that had happened. He drew in another greedy drag, and Merle nodded.

"We got plenty fuel now," Axel affirmed, beckoning for another cigarette and chaining the two, feeling the bitter burn deep in his chest as he dragged his foot over the discarded filter, vanquishing the subtle flame of the rod.

Laurel was already inside the truck cradling the baby, who was wrapped securely in his tartan blanket and gurgling softly. His distress had calmed in the last few minutes or so, and he now seemed almost at peace. Chubby arms waved up curiously to Laurel's face- regardless of this, she looked almost completely vacant, staring ahead as though the world was an utter mystery to her. Daryl noticed how stoic she looked through the glazed glass of the window and muttered,

"She's feelin' it now. What the world's really like."

"She's not the only one," Axel drawled quietly, "really brings it home, seein' it out here."

"Well, this is the way the world is now," Merle rolled swiftly, "she had to learn it sometime. Better sooner than later, learnin' it at the hands of the Cyclops and his band of merry-fucking-men."

"Maybe... I dunno, maybe someone ought talk to her. See if she's alright."

The three exchanged uncomfortable looks, no one willing to take up the task; emotional women were not the strong point of any member of the trio.

"Let 'Chonne do it," Merle dismissed, looking over to where the other woman was- she was at a distance to them now, silent as an assassin as her blade swung above her head, blood licking her riot vest as she thrust the sword into the caving skull of a large Walker who had thought it in her better interests to peruse her way up close to the highway. "We ain't got no business dealing with it- let the women sort each other out. They hang around each other long enough, they sync up, don't they? They gotta understand each other on some level."

Daryl didn't seem settled with it. "Just- ask her if she's alright or somethin'- she knows you better than me or Ax."

"What am I, an agony aunt?"

Merle rolled his eyes back in protest, but knocked his bayonet against the window all the same. Laurel glanced over to the glass, seemingly surprised to find anyone else was around- Merle mouthed to her, asking if she was alright, and she gave a false little nod, working a plastered smile onto her white face.

"There," Merle grumbled to Daryl and Axel, "Auntie Merle's done his job. Now C'mon. Let's haul ass outta here," Merle proclaimed quickly as he straightened back up, voice like leather, as he butt out the half-burned cigarette with the rubber sole of his shoe.

"Me and Darlena here are gonna drive this baby back with us so we've got another vehicle spare," he told Axel, bumping the front of a run down Chevy, "Y'all take the truck on back... least one of you knows how to drive, right?"

"I'll drive," Michonne declared, sweeping swiftly into the command side of the big blue truck.

"You got a spare helmet for the little man?" Axel asked the air with a chuckle, but nothing responded but the soft yelp of the infant.

"Drive slow," Merle told them, hopping in the passenger's side of the seven-seater Chevrolet he and Daryl had chosen. The canisters of petrol were piled up on the back seat, along with the CD collection Merle had insisted on bringing along.

"Let's go," Daryl called to the others from the driver's window, slapping his hand on the outside of the vehicle like it were a horse ready to be spurred on as he sucked on the dregs of his damp cigarette. Michonne manually unwound her own window and leant out to the two Dixons.

"You should wear your helmets," She instructed in a passive fashion, watching to see if they would take her advice; Merle shook his hand dismissively at her as Daryl revved the engine and drove on in front of them.

"You're people best appreciate this stuff after all the trouble we've gone to," Merle told his brother, tapping his arm out against the window.

"You talk 'sthough we're treating you like Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer," Daryl mused, "Ain't just _my _people anymore. You're part of the group now."

"Boy, f'your brain was dynamite you wouldn't have enough power to blow your own nose," Merle scolded him, "I musta told you a million times. I ain't part of this group."

"Why can't you just enjoy bein' a part of somethin', instead of playing the lone wolf card?" Daryl grumbled, spinning the wheel a little as they reached the sharp corner of the lengthy road.

"They don't want me," Merle reasoned; "and I don't want them either."

"Can't get along without people no more, man," Daryl told his brother, "gotta calm yourself and get along, even if there's some of 'em you ain't ever gonna like. You've got friends here now, and that ain't just wishful thinkin'. Gotta grin and bare it, y'know?"

"I ain't changin' for no man," Merle spat, clocking his jaw and stabbing his blade into the rubber of the truck's door habitually. "'F they don't like Merle, they can suck it and fuck off. D'you think they really care that much about _you?_ Look who they've sent you out here with: Me and that dark diva, who they just can't wait to get rid of, then Axel and the girl, who none of 'em proper care about yet- they ain't got no ties with these people. None of us have, 'cept _you._ Doesn't that tell you somethin' about how they feel about ya, that you've been lumped out here with us rejects?"

"They sent me cuz I know I'm best for the job," Daryl corrected, though his brothers words were making him doubt his own reasoning.

"Get off your high horse," Merle slurred at Daryl, "you're blind, kiddo. Followin' the crowd, that ain't the Dixon way; hell, even you're startin' to give me that look like I'm the Devil. Just you remember, you ain't exactly the milky bar kid yourself now, are ya? Gonna try tellin' me you ain't done bad things for good reason since the dead stopped stayin' that way?"

Daryl went to retaliate, but then thought of Randall.

"There- there's been a couple things, yeah. But they were deserved, I ain't gonna feel bad about it." Daryl felt he needed to defend himself further. "There was this one kid, scrawny little shit that Rick and Hershel found, turned out he came from this heavy group of bastards that went around raping little girls." Daryl shook his head, remembering the story the boy had told him about the campsite they'd found with the guy and his two daughters. Thinking about it made him feel sick- he wished now he hadn't taken that cigarette.

"Deserved it," Daryl repeated under his breath. "Anyway, I just laid into him a little, didn't kill him or freak out and throw a damn Walker in his face like you would have."

Merle took the dig without retaliating, much to Daryl's surprise. Suddenly Merle felt he needed to ask his little brother a question, something he hadn't even thought of ever askin' him before.

"...You ever killed a real person since it all started? One who wasn't already dead?"

Daryl's head seemed to lower, even though he was driving. It took him a few minutes, but eventually he replied.

"Three, I think," he said it quietly, like there were others around who might hear. He'd never said it out loud before. "Shot the old man, Dale, from back in Atlanta cuz a walker got him and ripped him up; guess that don't really count since it was mercy, like. Then there was a couple of them Woodbury guys I must of killed when we went in to save Glenn and Maggie... maybe more than a couple."

The same question had been brewing on Daryl's mind for a long time now, but Daryl feared he should probably be asking_ 'how many?'_ rather than _'have you killed any?'_

Daryl het up the courage and asked his brother. Merle sucked in his bottom lip.

"Sixteen," Merle replied quietly, not sounding like himself. "I killed sixteen."

Daryl drew in a hot breath; he'd expected it to be a few, but not... Jesus Christ._ Sixteen people. _Living, breathing people. He found he couldn't look at Merle and was glad he had the excuse of driving so he wouldn't have to do so.

"Seventeen," Merle corrected himself coldly, bringing his hand up to the side of his mouth and shielding his face a little. "That Mexican woman back there makes it seventeen."

Unexpectedly he found he wanted to get it all off his chest; he felt like a shaken up bottle of soda that someone was twisting the cap off. He swallowed it back, holding that boy he'd done over in the woods- _Gargulio,_ he remembered- down. Daryl already knew Merle was rotten; if he found out he's mercilessly killed a kid in cold blood, just to save his own ass, he'd never look the same at him again. He couldn't have that, not when he'd only just got him back.

"I ain't proud of it," Merle confessed quietly, staring straight ahead through the gallant window of the vehicle, "I ain't proud."

Merle screwed his lid back on, and let silence take him for the rest of the ride.

**~oOo~**

Eventually the two vehicles neared the road with the supermarket.

"Go slow!" Merle directed the others, leaning out of his window and waving his arm at the car behind.

"Put your helmets on!" Laurel shouted back, annoyed, "we're coming up to the supermarket, they could still be there-!"

"You smell that?" Axel said quickly, drawing in a deep breath as a strong, charcoal smell invaded the truck through the shattered back window. "Smells like smoke."

"Must be those two again," Laurel eased, imagining Daryl and Merle to be puffing on cigarettes again. She took to looking out of the side window.

"Jesus- look."

Michonne and Axel followed Laurel's direction, looking out of the left window.

"Son of a bitch," Axel breathed; they had just turned the corner of the road where they had collected their supplies. The supermarket was no longer a building; it was a raging ball of fire, a hot yellow blaze of flame. The burning light of it had attracted a group of walkers, some of whom had indulged too far in their curiosity and were now themselves set alight like waxen candles, bumping into each other and passing on the deteriorating flames. One of the flaming walkers had found it's head pushed up against a tree, and was now spreading the warm flames through the reaching branches of the trees.

"Well," Daryl muttered to Merle, who was shaking his head at the burning building, "that's our supply nest gone."

"Get your heads down," Michonne instructed, crouching lower in the driver's seat. Laurel and Axel followed her instruction, Axel being careful to cradle the baby safely.

Cautiously the two trucks drove past the burning building, wary in case of any activity from Woodbury's defenses, but they had gone.

"Looks clear to me," Merle shouted back to the second vehicle, as Daryl boosted the speed of the car.

A couple of the flaming walkers had caught on to the movement, and began to trail after the truck in the back.

"Not to mither," Axel squirmed, as one of the burning creatures reached over dangerously close to the broken window, "but I think we should be getting a move on, you follow me?"

The flames of the mindless monster's burning flesh licked at the plastic sheeting covering the supplies, but a burst of speed from Michonne repealed the catch of flame.

"Sons of bitches took my damn radio," Merle scolded, looking out to where he'd left it atop the lone parked car. He shook his head, cursing under his breath.

"Those mother fuckers."

Daryl couldn't help but laugh at his brother through the smoke as they left the fire of the super store behind them. Merle reached across and smacked Daryl hard in the side of the head with his metal cast in retaliation.

"Ow... Bastard."

"Shut up, you whiny bitch. Drive."

The survivors drove on towards home, leaving the burning remains of their primary food source behind them.

**AN: #FireWalkers**

**short but sweet this time- thanks again for all your support!**


	18. Chapter 18: Home

**Chapter Nineteen:**

**Home**

As the group reached the outskirts of the prison, their helmets went back on; cautiously the vehicles slid over the coarse dirt road, crawling through the dusty planes. Eventually they reached the broken opening of the outer gate, which was now flooded with Walkers; they heard the cry of Maggie up in the guard tower, and quickly the distant figures of Rick and Glenn, clad in the salvaged SWAT apparel, emerged from the doors of the cell block.

"Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumber," Merle muttered under his breath, winding up his window as the Walkers began to flock to the sides of the truck.

"Not today, sunshine," he said to one of the beasts, a female, who tried to claw her fingers in the gap of the closing window. The thing screeched as the car pulled away, leaving her smoldering with mindless hunger in the baron field.

Glenn worked open the gates, Rick standing guard beside him, his rifle poised and at the ready. As they snapped through the entrance, two of the Walkers managed to slip inside; Rick shot the one with his silenced gun as it scraped it's colorless hands against the side of the supply truck, and Daryl opened up his car door and stabbed the other swiftly in the head with his short knife.

"Bring the back of the truck up next to the door," Glenn instructed, and Merle leaned over to the wheel and guided the vehicle to it's designated place as Daryl hopped out, moving to help Glenn with the gates. "Get in, quick!" Glenn called to the second car; Michonne pushed the vehicle up through the poised gates and the wash-blue truck was parked. It's occupants got out quickly, moving for the doors of the cell block as quickly as possible. "Is that-?!" Cried Glenn at the bundle in Axel's arms as he passed him quickly on his way back inside,

"Sure is," Axel affirmed, wrapping the child up a little tighter as Laurel opened up the cell block door, "Let's get in and we'll tell you all about it."

Swiftly everyone made their way inside, all but Maggie who was still poised on watch; an audible sigh of relief was rushed throughout the whole block as it was realized every one had survived the run. Hugs and greetings were exchanged, sighs of _'thank God you're okay'_ and _'did you run into any trouble?'_ bouncing between the grey walls.

"Look what we picked up," Axel hollered loudly, drawing attention to the baby in his arms; the room went dead silent for a second as the infant's existence was realized, accompanied by a sudden bubble of speech, a muddle between amazement, happiness and downright horror.

"Where on Earth did you find it?" Hershel baubled, smiling a little as he hobbled closer, looking down and a little startled by the darker skinned child held in Axel's arms.

"His Momma was gettin' ripped apart by biters up on the highway," Merle told them all from the back of the group, "couldn't save the woman, but she'd locked the kid in the trunk of her car to keep it safe- suffocating is better than getting eaten, I guess. We ended up bringing back that little souvenir."

"Is it okay?" Asked Carol, her arm on Laurel's shoulder.

"_He,_" corrected Laurel, a little brighter for being home, "it's a boy- well, at least we think it is; he's all in blue, so..."

"Has he got a name?" Carl asked, craning his neck to get a better look at the infant.

"We don't know what it is," Laurel answered sadly, heart heavy in her chest again, "his mom- she was dying, and she was speaking in Spanish, so we never found out. I had a look around in their car, but… well, there was nothing."

"Never mind that for now," Glenn interrupted kindly, taking temporary control, "did you get everything we needed? Gas, food-?"

"Calm your tits, boy," Merle told him, "we got plenty. Enough to keep us goin' for a good few weeks, I'd say, and extras on top of that- meds, booze, all kinds a fun stuff."

"So long as we've got the essentials," Rick piped up- the group tensed a little, slightly unnerved by his presence. No one had fully recovered yet from his outburst. "I'll be goin' out on another run, maybe tomorrow- we need more guns, ammo, and I know where we can find 'em."

Daryl was about to volunteer himself to accompany Rick, but Beth piped up before he had the chance to do so.

"Did you get baby things?" the girl called to the group who'd just returned; she seemed startled by it all, triggered into some sort of maternal frenzy- she was rooting through all of Judy's supplies, looking for anything to help with the care of the new, much larger child. "And lots of it, because we've hardly got any left for Judy, having two babies is gonna be-"

"We got plenty," Axel assured her, " we got the formulas, little pots of mushy food, the diapers, pacifiers, the whole works."

Beth seemed to relax a little at this, the tension leaving her shoulders, then stood and went to observe the baby. His dark complexion made his orb-like eyes the focus of his face, and he was lay quite happily in Axel's arms, concentrating with wonder upon the ends of Axel's quivering mustachios as he talked.

"Two babies," Beth breathed in almost disbelief, shaking her head uncertainly as the infant took hold of her pinkie finger, squeezing it firmly in his small hand.

"He's older than Judith, though," Carol noted, herself moving to be beside the baby, the other side of Axel, "easier to manage."

"How old do you reckon?" Axel asked, pulling faces as the baby looked up at him with his large, inquisitive eyes.

"Six months," Michonne replied at the same time as Carol, a little tightness to her voice. She thought of her own girls when they had been that age, remembered how they would sit up and gurgle at her with their little smiles, reaching out to her as she'd sing to them. She thought of Mike- _second time today_. Closing her eyes, she held tightly to the bar above the cell block door as though it may be able to help her reclaim some of the stability she had lost long ago.

"We hit trouble," Daryl delved, diverting the conversation. Heads turned in his direction, all of them ready to hear his story of the conditions outside.

"Governor's men turned up at our joint just as we were leaving," Daryl went on, "group of them. Shot out the back window of our truck as we were driving away, set the store on fire. We went up on the highway to get gas then drove back- Merle said they'd be gone and they were."

"Why would they burn down the supermarket?" Beth asked, holding her finger again out for the baby to hold.

"Tryin' to scare us," Merle told the girl, then to the rest of the group, "they're lettin' us know they're in control, cuttin' off our source for supplies. Show us they could starve us out... if they wanted to."

Laurel noted the use of _'our'_ instead of _'your'_, causing her to smile a little to herself.

"If they saw us as a threat," Merle went on, "they'd of made sure to just kill the five of our sorry asses and would have taken the supplies we'd gathered for themselves; they just want us to know they're the ones rollin' the dice. Governor's crazy enough to bypass a truck and a store full of supplies just to show us that."

"Let's not worry about that now," Rick interrupted, his coarse hand pressed up against his forehead, working at his worn temples. "Let's sort out these getaway cars- get the supplies in, and we can divide everything up from there."

"We'll get them," Laurel offered quietly, volunteering herself and the small group who had just returned without really thinking, "we're already head to toe in the riot gear, saves everyone else getting all dressed up."

The others agreed, and within ten minutes all of the items the group had collected on their mission were brought inside.

"There's so much," Carol chimed, a little excitedly.

"Let's get all this stuff down the far end," Rick advised, "then us men will go out and clear the area outside the fence-" Rick looked around a second, and no-one seemed to protest. "And Michonne," he added. Maggie cleared her throat and Rick acknowledged her. "And Maggie. The Walkers are starting to push up against our defenses; it'll do us good to clear out their ranks some."

"I'm all for a little head smashin' after the day I've had," Merle called, swinging the rifle off his shoulder, "let's get down to it."

"I'm coming," Carl called, moving towards the door.

"No," Rick ordered, shaking his head. Sweat had already formed on his brow and it was clear that he was struggling to maintain his awareness at the moment.

"Dad, come on. I can shoot from one of the towers. I'm a good shot-"

"I know you are- I know. There… there aren't enough full suits, you just- you just stay here and you can help out with packing up the stuff and things everyone brought back, help plan it up into the cars. Keep an eye on your sister-"

"Carol and Beth are here, Laurel too- you can't keep stopping me from doing things, Dad, I can help out properly now-!"

"Please, Carl!" Rick choked loudly, almost a cry, then he seemed to falter and raised a rough hand up beneath his heavy, bruised eye lids. "I ain't gonna let it happen," Rick said firmly, thinking of Lori through every word. "You're my boy, and we've just… your Mom, Carl… I'm… I'm not letting ya. Don't you do that to me. Don't you _dare_ do it."

Carl watched his father for a minute with uncertain eyes, watching as he turned, shaking a little, and made for the door of the cell block, where the other suits were being kept. The others slowly began to follow him, all in silence; Axel set the new baby down with Beth as Glenn and Rick changed into the two spare riot suits and Laurel gave hers up to Maggie. The seven strongest group members headed out the front of the C block, Hershel volunteering to go on watch- the others protested a little, insisting that they themselves to go due to Hershel's condition, but he dismissed them and hobbled out to the ground-level perch all the same.

"Judy's sleeping now," Beth called in a hushed voice, watching the girl as she slept in her box; although they had the fold-down cot, she seemed to prefer Daryl's hand-made creation with it's little slogan on the side. Beth remembered how quietly pleased Daryl had looked when Carol had first told him that.

"Are you alright, Carl?" Carol asked the boy, and he nodded his head with an unresponsive, stoic expression. The room was awkwardly silent for a few minutes, Laurel lost in morose thought of the day's events again, until Carol found a way out of the tension.

"Well then," she quipped, standing and moving over to the black bags full of supplies, "let's get to it."

Reluctantly Carl followed as Beth and Laurel crouched beside the bin liners with Carol; each of them ripped open a bag, and the contents poured out onto the ground.

"Now, how to go about this," Carol questioned, staring down the supplies.

"There's eleven of us," Beth calculated, "and now the two babies- if a car fits five-"

"We brought a people carrier back with us today," Laurel informed them, finding a way out of her busy head somehow, "that seats seven, so we won't need more than two cars."

"Split it in three, then," Carl concluded, "a load for each car, then we can bag up the rest of the supplies and keep them inside, by the doors so we can grab them and go if we need to."

The four of them began to sort through the food and drink first, piling it up into equal shares according to what it was.

"Haven't seen food this exciting in months," Carol smiled, lifting out a cinema-style bag of chocolates. "The date looks alright- shall we treat ourselves?"

"No," Carl instructed quickly before the others could smile to temptation, throwing a similar bag onto the second pile, "we've gotta conserve everything, only use things when we need to. That could save our lives if we have to leave."

Carol placed the bag on the final pile, a little sadly. "You're right," she acknowledged. "Smart boy."

"Look," Laurel offered, opening up the lightest of the bags, "I got us some clothes, brand new ones. Don't know if they'll be the right sizes for everyone, but I tried to grab a selection, guys and gals- better than wearing dismantled prison jump suits, I figured. Loads of underwear, too, and socks."

"Can never have enough socks," Beth grinned lightly, pulling out a light blue pair, still packaged.

"These are nice," Carol smiled, holding up a dark red shirt with little roses sewn around the collar. She delve her hand back into the bundle of fabric before them and found a soft cotton shirt with plaid detailing; she rubbed the fabric between her fingers and found herself putting it aside, saving it for Daryl.

"Glenn said they'd found generators in the bunker where the riot gear was," Beth recalled, "and water- we can shower tonight then all have a set of fresh clothes."

"That'd sure make life a little easier," Carol smiled, imagining what it would feel like to be clean again.

"I grabbed some shampoo, too," Laurel added, temporarily cheery, "conditioner, body wash, toothbrushes, perfume- all sorts. We'll all be good as new."

"You're a Godsend," Carol smiled, opening up the bag Laurel had directed her to- from it she found the more feminine products, and gave a little laugh.

"Hallelujah," Carol mused, "about time someone had the sense to grab what we really need."

"You know what men are like," Laurel chimed, "completely useless. I grabbed all they had."

Beth took the parcels out of the bag. "Never thought I'd be so happy to see a tampon," she mused, piling it up on the furthest pile.

Carl sat there awkwardly, not 100% certain what was going on but having a rough idea. _'Girly things'_, mom had called them. Proceeding to work through the clothes, Carl happened upon a bra, and his embarrassment seemed to overwhelm him.

"I'm gonna go out," he excused himself, "help Hershel on watch…"

"Stay with Hershel, Carl," Carol instructed him firmly, "your dad- he needs you to co-operate with him, just until he- until he sorts his head out. Don't let him down."

Carl gave the woman a cool nod and skittered from the cell block. The girls watched him go with sad, uncertain eyes.

**~oOo~**

Carl opened up the external door and moving up to Hershel's watch point.

"You should have your helmet and vest with you," Hershel advised as the boy appeared on the platform. Carl shrugged.

"They're almost done. They've taken most of them out through the fence, and look-" he pointed up to the tall guard towers, the other hand adjusting his suspenders, "Maggie and Glenn are picking the rest of them off while the others go in hand-to-hand. Waste less bullets."

"I should be out there, with them," he said angrily to Hershel as the two of them sat watching the massacre of the dead.

"Your father may not make decisions we always think are best," Hershel said wisely, " but you need to respect them, Carl. We all do. Your father has saved all of our lives a hundred times over- he's saved my girls from all the things out there in that cold, hungry world. There's no way I could ever repay him for that. But right now, he needs our help; we owe it to him to do everything we can to help him. And if you not being on the front line puts his mind at ease, son, then I think it's best that you heed his request. At least for now."

Carl stared straight ahead for a long while, watching as Daryl shot a swift arrow into the head of one of the creatures that was coming up behind Michonne.

"You say he saved us all," Carl argued quietly, "but he didn't, did he? He couldn't save Dale, or T-dog, or Patricia, or Jimmy, or Otis… or Shane."

Carl gulped, forcing out his next words as they withered in his throat.

"…Or Mom."

Hershel was unsure as to what to say to the boy; he seemed so strong lately, so cold, it was unnerving.

"Everything your father has done," Hershel tried, "has been to help this group. Everything that man does is to keep you safe- to keep us all safe. Your father is a good man, Carl; one of the best. Always remember that."

Carl didn't reply, thinking about all that Hershel had said. He could see Michonne, braids swinging as she cut down Walkers like it was nothing. Merle seemed to be in his element too, beckoning one of the unraveling Walkers towards him as he laughed; the thing neared him and he kicked it in the chest roughly, causing it to groan and stumble back.

"Come on, sexy," Merle beckoned her, blowing the creature a teasing kiss, "come get some sugar."

"Stop fucking around," Daryl snapped, coming up behind his brother and taking the gurgling creature out with an arrow through the side of the head.

"Where's your sense of humor gone, boy?" Merle moaned, spinning around as another biter swung its way clumsily over to him. Merle drove his blade across the throat of the dark-skinned creature, then up under its chin, causing the upper side of its jaw to catch on his weapon, clamping its mouth together.

"Jesus," Merle groaned, his arm stuck, "Get off me, you ugly fuck-"

He tried to yank himself free but only drew the creature's head down with him, its hands grabbing hungrily at his exposed arms.

"Hands off the goods, nigger," Merle snapped, pulling his leg up against the thing's jaw and managing to push the Walker free- the lower jaw of the creature came loose with his arm, clinging to the bayonet of Merle's prosthetic; the man stared at it in revulsion a second, backing up and grabbing at the dismembered jaw- the Walker was still coming, despite losing the lower half of its face, so Merle took hold of the bloodied chunk of it with it's tenacious grip, and set about working it off his weapon- with a twist and a tug in either direction, the hunk of human flesh squelched free.

"Go to sleep," Merle growled, stabbing his now free blade up through the roof of the Walker's freshly exposed mouth and through its brain. The eyes rolled a moment, before the creature collapsed in on itself and fell to the ground, Merle whipping out his knife as it went. He reeled, the piece of jaw still held in his blood smoked hand- looking around, he found that they'd managed to clear up the section, all but one Walker still standing, who Daryl was now taking care of. Merle jogged over closer to him, and called out to his brother.

"Hey Darlena- catch!"

Daryl instinctively reached for the object, at first not grasping what it was.

"God damn it, Merle!" he quipped, throwing the jaw piece back at his brother in disgust, "you're a sick piece of shit, you know that?"

Merle side-stepped out of the path of the body part, his mirthful cachinnations echoing quietly as he took chase after his brother, who was now running to the far gates which had been demolished by the Walkers- Michonne was decapitating a series of the beasts as Axel and Rick threaded either end of a thick piece of wire through one half of the exposed gates; Daryl hollered at them, drawing closed the other half of the gate with Merle as Michonne stepped back inside. Axel proceeded to clock the wire between the two metal constructs, welding them temporarily back together and trying them off firmly with the ends of a pair of pliers.

"That'll hold it for now," Axel said, gasping for breath after the ordeal they'd been through, "but its flimsy- won't hold strong forever."

"We don't need forever," Michonne commented, already making her way back up to the prison. The men watched her go.

"I'll check the perimeter," Rick concluded, heading out, and Axel followed with the intention of lending a hand.

"You wanna stay out here, take some of these bastards out through the fence?" Daryl asked his brother, who raised his eyebrows and wiped the blood from his bayonet out onto the thick blades of yellowed grass.

"You know me too well, little brother," Merle grinned. "Let's get to it."

**AN: ****Oh Lord guys, writing about Hershel's suspenders... a very different thing over here. The image of Hershel in suspenders is something I will treasure forever!**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and lots of love!**


	19. Chapter 19: Watch

**Chapter Twenty:**

**Watch**

"Let's think logically," Carol instructed back inside, standing up and fetching the chalk Glenn had been using the other day to draw up his plans. The group had come to the realization that they needed to decide their travel arrangements should they have to abandon ship; which was seeming increasingly likely, much to everyone's upset.

"We need to have designated cars, see who's going where."

"We've got to stay together," said Maggie, pointing at Glenn, having just come in from the guard towers. "And my dad, and Beth."

"Of course," Carol reasoned, and drew out their names in the concrete with the white pastel.

"Rick, Carl and Judy will have to stay together," Beth reasoned, "and Daryl will want to be with his brother."

"Then there's us rejects," Laurel smiled, though it wasn't really funny at all._ The rest of us,_ she thought. The ones with no family, the ones nobody desperately wanted with them, should the worst come to the worst.

"So, if we put yous and Rick's in the people carrier, that leaves space for one more there," Laurel explained, gesturing to the plan so far.

"Yeah," Beth added, "Daryl and Merle can go in the other truck with three more, then whoever's left can have the other seat in the 4x4."

"Where do you wanna go, Laur?" Carol asked, holding the chalk over the two houses. Laurel stared at the names. Of course she knew where she wanted to be, but there was something embarrassing about admitting it.

"Uh… I don't really mind…"

Carol seemed to understand, and wrote 'Laurel' underneath Daryl and Merle's column. Quickly, as though she didn't want anyone else to notice, she wrote her own name there, too. Laurel smiled at her gesture.

"Put the babies together," Beth instructed, "that way their supplies won't get split or wasted."

"In the SUV, then," Carol devised, adding them to the diagram, "more people to look after them if-" She trailed off, gulping back her words.

"…If we can't stay together once we leave," Beth concluded sadly.

"It's a possibility," Glenn acknowledged, landing a comforting shoulder on Beth's slight back. "But this gives us the best chance of staying alive, and keeping together."

"Just Michonne and Axel, then," Carl concluded.

"Best keep Michonne away from Merle Dixon," Maggie drawled, and Carol drew her name under Rick's column, then added Axel to her own.

The group stared at their creation, unsure. There was something detestable about it, something sinister- it was cold and calculated, and left no room for attachment or emotion.

"I hate it," Beth said bluntly, looking down on the map which drew out so crudely where the allegiances of each group member truly lay. "It's like splitting up the family. It's horrible."

"It's practical," corrected Glenn, somewhat uneasily. "It makes sense- keep families together and enemies apart. It's our best chance of getting out alive."

"We are a family," Beth retorted, "all of us; it's not just about blood anymore. It's horrible, we shouldn't have to be split up like this. I hate the Governor."

"We all do," Carol soothed consolingly. "But whatever happens, even if we have to leave and get split for a while, we will find each other. Even if it takes a few weeks, a few months even. Like you said, sweetie- we're family."

Laurel was touched. The connection these people had built- they were a unit. She hadn't realized it before now, but they moved as one, they_ breathed _as one. Their bonds were eroded in places, shattered in others, but at its core they still needed each other, every last one of them. The idea of being apart from each other, Laurel could see, was more terrifying than whatever the Governor had to offer. She could see it inscribed into all of their faces, written on their very skin. They had grown to be more than a family- they were a fortress, a beating heart fighting against the world, a stronghold carved from the ruins of humanity which no man could touch, least of all this Governor. _Let him try, _each beat said. _Let him try and break us apart._

And they had welcomed them into that. She and Axel, Merle and Michonne; the new baby, too. Despite all the tribulation they'd faced, the betrayals and the losses, the hardships and the sheer struggle to stay alive if nothing else, these people had still not lost their capacity to hope.

"Let's load up the trunks," Glenn advised. "Once that's done, we can see if we can fire up those generators in the D block, get the showers running, then cook us something to eat; we'll all feel better once we're clean and fed."

Everyone agreed this was a good idea, and proceeded to carry out the bagged up merchandise and load it in the cars, which Glenn had parked up by the exit, tanks full with canisters of gas in the back of each, ready to roll as soon as need be. When the task was complete, everyone removed their helmets and waited for the others to come back inside.

"I'll go cover Daddy's watch, so he can come and see the car plans," Beth called eventually, unfolding her legs and standing up.

"Here," Laurel quipped, holding her hands for Beth to take, "I'll come with you."  
Beth helped her new friend up, and the two girls went out in their riot helmets and vests. Hershel and Carl returned inside, and Laurel and Beth made up the stairs of the first guard tower.

"it's cool up here," Laurel smiled, looking around the small room. Beth took up the rifle set out at the front, checking it was loaded; Maggie or Glenn, whoever had been in this tower, had used all the rounds when they'd been clearing out the field. Beth took a new box from the table and emptied it out.

"Is it any different?" Laurel asked, pulling off her helmet, "using one of these from a hand gun?"

"Yeah, a little," Beth told her, and showed her how to load and lock it.

"It's mad, isn't it?" Laurel mused, stroking her hand down the barrel of the weapon, "I never thought I'd ever need to know how to use one of these things."

"I know," Beth affirmed, "It's a crazy world we're living in now."

"Sure is," Laurel agreed. She looked out of the plasti-glass windows and could see Daryl and Merle up outside, sticking blades through the eye sockets of the Walkers who dared approach the external gates. In the window had been seared a tiny hole, just big enough to fit the head of the rifle and allow it to pivot. Laurel popped the head through and leant the gun against the bar, then sat down on the edge of the control desk.

"So, how was the run?" Beth asked her, bringing her arms up over her small chest.

Laurel closed her eyes, flashes of the highway curdling in her mind. "It was…"

Her stomach churned and for a moment she thought she was about to vomit.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," Beth consoled her, reaching a tentative hand over to her friend. "I know it's really horrible out there."

"It went well," Laurel said robotically, "everything was fine until-" she thought of the woman, of her blood plastered up against her dark arms and Laurel's own. The screaming and the red everywhere, the unbelievable amount of red. She didn't think she'd be able to describe it to anyone, not ever. It was the most horrific thing she'd seen in her life, and she didn't think she'd ever find anything that could surpass the horror she had witnessed today, even knowing everything else that was going on in the world outside. That woman, that poor nameless woman torn to shreds on the baked highway, would always be a part of her now; Laurel didn't think a day would be able to pass without thinking of her ripped body, haunted by her aching cries- her little baby who they'd saved, who was now one of them.

"We couldn't save the baby's mom," Laurel said quietly. "We weren't quick enough… if we'd got there just a few minutes earlier, she'd have been fine. She'd have been safe."

Beth bowed her head, unsure of what to say. She hadn't been out on a run yet, and by today's account, she was glad of it. Laurel seemed mortified.

"We won't need to make a run now," Beth consoled weakly. "You all did really, really well- we've got plenty, what you all brought back will last us a couple of months if we're careful."

Laurel nodded, and found she didn't want to talk about the events of today any more. The memory of it laid heavy on her chest, as though someone was pushing down on her rib cage. Quickly, she changed the subject to something less tangible.

"Were you at school before all this?" Laurel asked Beth, playing with one of the pens she found in the Warden's desk drawer, "college?"

"Dropped out after my freshman year," Beth told her friend, glad also of the change in the conversation's tone. "Wasn't my scene- Daddy home-schooled me after that."

"Must have been nice," Laurel commented with a smile, drawing a diamond on the inner of her wrist in red biro. The pressure of the thing made her skin whiten beneath it, dispersing the blood for a small time. "You had a farm, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Beth smiled, watching Laurel drawing on her pale skin. "It was real nice- we had chickens, cows. Couple of cats, but they both ran off when this whole thing started." Her placid smile faltered a little; "Or they got eaten."

Laurel grimaced, no comforting words able to fall from her lips. She told Beth about the cat who had been hanging out by the store, in the hopes of lightening the mood.

"Were you with anyone?" Laurel asked when she had finished, and Beth smiled sadly.

"I guess," she replied, head resting in one hand.

"You _guess?"_ Laurel mused, tucking her hair back behind her ear and nudging Beth. "Spill the beans, missus."

"Well it wasn't ever really... official, I suppose," Beth explained, "It just sort of happened. It was never serious, just kissing and holding hands around the farm sometimes- my Daddy had an eye on him like a hawk. His name was Jimmy. We were at Junior school together; he lived on the farm next to ours and his Ma used to send him over to help with the horses and that. He was nice."

"Do you know what happened to him?" Laurel asked sadly, seeing the hopelessness in Beth's small face.

"Walkers got him," Beth told the other girl, gulping out the words, "the night we had to leave our farm, got overrun."

"I'm sorry," Laurel consoled, sitting down by Beth on the desktop. Beth shrugged from the chair, trying to smile.

"How about you?"

"God no," Laurel said with a little laugh, "I never really wanted one; not that I'd have had much choice in the matter anyway. Only guys who ever seemed to come near me were… well, weird." She shrugged again, chuckling. "Or maybe I was the weird one. I always kind of thought I'd be alone forever, never find anyone- now there isn't anyone left to find."

She glanced out the window at Merle, frowning a little. He and Daryl looked to be finished; the two of them were walking back up to the inner gates.

Merle waved his hand up as he saw her on the balcony, and Laurel waved back, light butterflies fluttering across her stomach, despite her anger at him- or was it just disappointment? Laurel wasn't even sure herself.

"He likes you, doesn't he?" Beth asked, coming up and standing beside Laurel at the plasti-glass door to the balcony.

Laurel, unsure what she meant and a little flustered said, "who?"

"Merle. He likes you. You're in his good books... more than the rest of us can say."

"I... I don't know. I... guess so."

Beth smiled at her. "He does. I think you're the only one he does like- I'm not even sure if he likes Daryl at the moment."

"He does. And he likes Axel, and your Dad," Laurel remarked with a weak smile, feeling some odd need to defend Merle despite all the anguish of the day. She smirked at Beth and told her, "and he thinks you're smart."

"Smart?" Beth asked, surprised he'd even noticed she existed, "how come?"

"Because you keep away from him," Laurel answered with a light laugh, brushing her hand beneath her nose awkwardly.

"Guess that makes me stupid."

"You're not stupid," Beth told her kindly. "But he is dangerous. You should maybe keep your distance from him, too. The things we've all heard about him… he's not… safe."

Laurel looked out at Merle then, because she didn't know what else to say. How could she describe it when she didn't even understand it herself? She knew she was developing a crush on Merle the past few days-_ ugh, what a word-_ and it kind of weirded her out, though not in a horrible way. She didn't understand it- he was scary and erratic for sure, and a lot older, with battle scars, a bad mouth and a personality to match. She knew he'd done horrible things even if she wasn't 100% on what they were- but there was something about him, something she couldn't quite pin down. She'd seen, she supposed, something there that the others didn't seem to- maybe not even Daryl. Or maybe she was making it all up, just needed someone, something; but there was no denying he was nice to her, hell of a lot nicer than he was to most, even if it was just cuz he had a soft spot for blondes or something like that. His eyes were too cold and too blue; they hurt to look at half the time, and he was built so big, the power in him visible in his solid chest and thick arms, and that scared her a little, stupid as it was. Heck, maybe that was part of it; he made her feel safe, and he made her laugh. _And cry,_ she thought, remembering how she'd just leant up against him and sobbed like it was the end of the world yesterday. Even though she was upset, it was the nicest feeling she'd had in a long time, just sitting there with his arm around her. Heck, it was the safest she'd felt in a whole year, even with a bunch of lunatics from another camp ready to come and kill them all at any moment, _or worse,_ she remembered, the whole reason she'd been crying in the first place. Strange as it was, and even with what had gone down today, she didn't mind liking Merle Dixon, despite all his rough edges. Not one bit.

"He's..."

Laurel looked to him again, hoping words would surface that she could use to explain what she saw in him. There was something, _something_ there beneath all the anger at the world and the spite, but she wasn't sure it even had a name.

Maybe its name was just Merle.

Suddenly, something smacked up against the pexi-glass- Beth screamed, and Laurel turned quickly around, heart jumping;

A Walker was pressed up against the window, growling in with hungry, dead eyes.

**AN: DUNN DUNNN DUNNNNN**

**Short again this time folks, my apologies; I've had two essays to write this week and it's been hectic! ****But enough of my moaningness- hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**I wish I could just write this whole story instantaneously and throw it in your faces, because I know exactly where everything is going and I genuinely love my brain ideas atm- I think you're gonna like them too. It's gonna get pretty damn dramatic, but I'm not going to rush it and skip the development side- but oh Lord, I REALLY WANT TO JUST TELL YOU ALL THE THINGS THAT ARE HAPPENING IN MY HEAD. GAHHH.**

**Please, please review, even if it's just a smiley expressing your chapter feels :D**

**Have a wonderful week, my pretties, and remember; stay away from drugs!**


	20. Chapter 20: Honest

**Chapter Twenty-One:**

**Honest**

_Suddenly something smacked up against the pexi-glass and Beth screamed; heart jumping, Laurel span around to the balcony window behind her to see a Walker pressed up against the window, growling hungrily, the flesh of its jaw seared off like some kind of melting mask._

"How the hell did that get up here?!" Laurel spat quickly, stepping back from the window in shock and keeping her eyes on the thing; it looked freshly dead- if it wasn't for the half a dozen blue bottles buzzing around its face and the grey skin, it could have passed for an injured person, still alive but sickly. Laurel realized that the red absence of flesh against the creature's jawline must have been caused by a misplaced bullet.

A sudden realization swept over Beth and she cried out, "when the Governor came, Maggie shot that sniper up here, remember? She couldn't have got a head shot-!"

The thing was scraping it's thick dead hands against the protective glass, growling to itself, though the girls couldn't hear it's moans through the soundproof shields.

"We can't shoot it without letting it in," Laurel reasoned, as Beth reached over for the packed rifle, "and it's a tiny space in here, it'd be like playing Twister with him."

Beth noticed that the Walker seemed short; its legs were bent in at an odd angle, causing it to fall clumsily against the window. Beth moved closer, trying to ignore the squabbling hands and teeth of the thing as it looked at her, and looked down near its feet; its one foot was twisted and locked underneath the bottom rail of the balcony's banister.

"I- I think it's stuck," Beth explained as she stepped away from the window, "that's why it hadn't come after us already- if we go out the other door, sneak around-"

"I'll take care of it," Laurel offered, taking up the rifle and pulling it's nose out of the firing hole. Beth nodded, reminding her how to clock it and Laurel set the thing up before opening the front door.

"You go around the other side and distract it for a sec," Laurel advised, "I'll go up behind it and take it out."

Beth agreed, and less than a minute later, it was done. The girls stood either side of the fallen corpse, a little elevated and a lot relieved, the sound of the gunshot ringing loud in their ears.

"High five," Laurel grinned, buzzing with adrenaline. She pointed the rifle away from the two of them and offered out her hand. The girls exchanged the gesture, laughing and a little shocked still.

"That's teamwork for ya," Beth smiled, stepping over the corpse so that the two stood beside each other on the platform.

"Makes you feel kinda badass, doesn't it?" Laurel mused, turning the rifle in her hand and inspecting it's side. She tried to keep her eyes off the Walker, but it was difficult- It was the sniper the Governor had sent when he'd drove the Walker van through the fence; there was a bullet in his neck and a large tear across his jaw which would suggest a bullet skimmed him there.

"Maggie couldn't have got a head shot," Beth said, prodding a foot uneasily at the dead body.

They were almost underneath their podium now, the two Dixons, having jogged over seeing the carnage. Daryl's crossbow was hitched up over his shoulder, poised and ready to fire.

"Girls!" he shouted, trying to grab their attention.

"Yeah?" Laurel called down, Beth coming up against her side.

Daryl asked, "Y'all alright?"

The two of them looked down again at the grey creature they'd just terminated, and nodded at the youngest Dixon.

"You pulled that off good," Merle told them, amused by the pair, "if I still hand both hands I'd give the two of ya a round of applause."

Laurel smiled without meaning to, then struggled with the rifle a second as Beth reminded her how to clock the safety.

"So, what'cha reckon?" Merle said quietly to Daryl, "two blondes. Couldn't ask for more than that; you can have the little one and I'll have the one with the big-"

"You're sick," Daryl told his brother blankly. Merle laughed coarsely, nudging Daryl in the arm with his prosthetic.

"Just teasin' ya, baby brother. I know you've got your eye on that other woman- wish to hell you'd move in and do something about it- she's practically beggin' for ya. Piece of ass is on your plate and you ain't even got the balls to bite into it."

"Y'all get your helmets back on and come down," Daryl called up to the girls, embarrassed by Merle and trying to ignore him, "us two'll take watch, and get rid of that thing, as well."

"Thanks," Beth smiled, heading back down to the front of the tower and starting down the stairs, pulling her helmet over her head. Seemed pointless seeing as they were only crossing the cell block, but still- better safe than sorry.

"He must have been bit before he came," Laurel reasoned as she and Beth reached the two Dixons at the bottom of the stairs, "maybe that's why he was willing to take the sniper position, because he knew he didn't have long left anyway."

Realization flowed over Beth; looked to Daryl to take the lead in explaining what Laurel clearly did not yet know. Beth touched her friend's wrist, and Merle avoided looking at the girl all together; still hadn't cleared the air over what had gone down earlier, and now she was finding this out. Should have told her straight off, Merle thought to himself, remembering when she'd been telling him her story. It showed on Laurel's face that she knew something was wrong.

"What's up?" she asked, pulling a the neckline of her vest with a tense expression.

With a bowed head, Daryl murmured an uneasy reply.

"It- it don't matter if you're bit or not. We all turn like that when we die. Everyone's carrying the infection."

Laurel stared at Daryl with her mouth hanging open a little, as though she was unable to register what she'd just heard.

"You mean- we're all gonna be Walkers?"

Daryl nodded slowly, and Laurel looked for a second to Merle, her brows contorted in confusion. He was still looking away, unwilling to acknowledge her.

"Why don't you head on up and I'll join you in a sec," Merle said to Daryl, who ascended the stairs quickly. Merle glanced quickly to Beth, who nodded in understanding and started walking back over to the door of the cell block; Laurel turned to follow her and Merle put his hand quickly on her arm. She tugged away a little, and he pulled her back.

"C'mere," he said, hand still on her arm. She let him pull her back like a rag-doll, her head bowed, avoiding his eyes.

_Shit, Dixon._

"Why didn't you tell me?" Laurel asked quietly, her voice cracked. She thought of Brent's wife back at the store she'd lived in all that time, of how they'd buried her body out in the woods near the place. She remembered telling Merle, and she remembered him not saying anything back.

"You knew," she said in a stoic voice, "you knew that I didn't know that we all... that everybody…"

"Didn't think knowing would do you any favors, Cher," Merle told her quietly, pulling her a little closer. She didn't resist. "You were shook up. Last thing you needed was findin' that out, I reckoned. Didn't do it to spite ya."

Laurel nodded, averting her gaze downwards again.

"Don't do that," Merle said to her sadly, putting his hand under the chin of her helmet and lifting her bowed face a little. "Makes me feel like shit when you do that."

She looked at him from under her glazed visor with sad, uncertain eyes_. __That ain't makin' me feel much better,_ Merle thought, and closed his own lids and let go of her face. The two stood there for a while, neither speaking, unbearably close yet still too far away. Words seemed to have run out between the pair.

"You meant it today," Laurel breathed quietly, not wanting to talk about what had happened up on the highway but knowing she had to. "Out there, with the baby. You really meant it when you said we should just... leave him. I could see it, in your face. You meant it."

Merle turned his head, not wanting to have to look at her.

"Would you have been able to do it?" Laurel asked slowly, "Would you really have left him, If it had just been you out there who'd found him?"

Merle rubbed his hand over his mouth, struggling to think clearly. He'd been thinking the same thing himself, ever since they'd got back.

"I don't know," he told Laurel blankly, and he really didn't. He'd never exactly been known as Mr. Emotional- _more Mr. Cold-Hearted-Son-of-a-Bitch-_ but even he wasn't dead enough inside to feel nothing over leaving a little kid out there to die, even if it was of the Border Bandit variety. Laurel looked up at him again, her lambent eyes swelling. Shit, here we go- Merle could see she was about to cry, and there wasn't nothing on earth that could stop it; he directed her backwards a little so that the two of them were stood in the shade of the underneath of the stairwell going up to the tall guard tower where Daryl had stationed himself on watch; with the heat too much and the safety provided by the shield of the tower's defenses, Laurel pulled off her helmet and held it tightly in her hand, bringing the other up to the back of her tresses of tawny hair. She walked left and right in disoriented, pacing half-circles for a few seconds before stopping a little further off from Merle, facing out to the fences of the prison. It was clear of living walkers now, the space instead occupied by inanimate bodies heaped up against the front fence and scattered about the dry yellow field. Laurel remembered Daryl's words as she looked out at the mobile walkers, pushing up against the furthest fence, and felt her innards coil.

_We all turn like that when we die. Everyone's carrying the infection._

She felt her eyes begin to run with hot liquid and turned again, so that Merle wouldn't be able to see her tears. Her hand came up to her eye-line as she wiped them away, and a few moments later she felt Merle's broad hand on her shoulder.

"Don't," she choked quickly, shrugging from beneath his touch and stepping forwards away from him as though to assert some sense of authority, "I don't need you to..."

Her voice broke off abruptly, and she weakened in her shoulders. A shuddered, cracked breath broke through her lips with a pained sigh, and Laurel seemed to shrink where she stood. Merle stood solid where he was, watching as she struggled with everything she'd seen and learnt today, on top of the threat of Woodbury and the outside world; seeing that woman die, the way he had reacted to the kid they had found, and now finding out that everyone would turn once they died- something in her had snapped, crumbled to pieces, and the tears seemed to be her only catharsis. With a lax movement, asthough she had given in to herself, Laurel turned back around to Merle and stared vacantly at the space just under his neck, lips bit together, tasting the salt from her bled eyes. She swallowed hard at the lump in her throat, attempting composure. Merle saw the distress in her pale eyes although she wasn't looking at him, her eyes staring at the helmet in her hand and given a shot of lucid green by the irritated rims of her lids.

"I'm just so..." she started as the tears began to ware away, her lily voice high and fragmented, "...so tired. I- I can't- _think._ My head hurts so much… everything hurts."

Merle allowed himself a step closer, and she didn't retreat; he closed the gap between them further and cautiously, and as though it may trigger something dangerous, Laurel moved her free hand up by his side and placed it on his shoulder, over the material of his vest.

"S'alright now, sugar," Merle told her. Don't you worry none."

He put his hand on the back of her poor head as she leant into him a little, short breaths rasping out of her in tentative puffs.

"I ain't gonna let you turn," Merle told her. "You ain't dyin' on me- I ain't gonna let ya. And that's a promise."

_"Rule number one of the Merle Dixon handbook,_" Laurel smiled weakly, quoting his own words from the previous night, "_Merle lies."_

"On some things," he said.

"You're not allowed to die on me, either," Laurel tried, breathing in deeply. "If you do, I'll dig you back up and kill you again."

"I won't, Cher," Merle smirked, looking down over her blonde tresses. He gave her a moment, stood there in the quiet, then said,

"And everything that happened this morning... all that's over now. The baby's safe and that woman- well, she ain't feelin' no hurt no more. You can forget it all, darlin'- just put it at the back of your mind. "

"How can I forget?" Laurel said weakly, the caustic image of the dead woman resurfacing in her mind again; she had thought of little else since it had happened.

Merle had no answer. "Maybe not forget," he tried again, "Maybe... maybe just try not to think on it."

"Is that how you manage?" Laurel asked honestly, and thought of the way he'd shot the woman eventually, out of mercy. All that, and he didn't seem at all different- she felt like she'd been sliced into ribbons.

"Yeah," Merle consoled her, though he wasn't sure whether or not it was the truth. "You gotta think on something else- gotta keep yourself busy, you follow? It's the only way, or we'd all go crazy. There's plenty to do- just gotta keep on goin'."

"You're right. I should go in," Laurel said eventually, drawing up her composure. She remembered how she was leant up against him, again, and moved a little further away. _Don't be so pathetic,_ she thought to herself, pulling back straight. "help out with everything going on inside."

"You should," Merle agreed, nodding as he moved back a step. "And my little brother's up there, probably thinkin' I've run off and left him on watch all by his lonesomes. Go ahead, sweetheart- I'll see you some time later."

With a small smile and not another word, Laurel headed back over to the main cell block, wedging her helmet back over her head as she went. Merle watched her uneasily for a moment, not sure if he'd really succeeded in making her feel less shit or if she was just pretending.

**~oOo~**

Daryl nodded at his brother as he opened the door to the guard tower.

"...She alright?"

"Course she ain't," Merle replied, sitting down in the warden's chair with his head leant against his hand. "Were you 'alright' when you found out we're all goin' cannibal once we kick the bucket?"

Daryl shrugged. It was weird, whatever was going on between Merle and that girl. He took his mind off it and went back to counting how many bullets were left stationed in the box on top of the desk.

"We're runnin' low," he told Merle, "this rifle's full and there's another box left, but we still ain't shared the bullets out between all the weapons we got. We're gonna have to do that pretty soon, if the Governor is gonna show up in the next few days."

"He will," Merle scolded, "not a question of _'if'_. This is the type of guy who'd opt for slashin' a man's throat or stickin' a machete through his skull rather than shoot him straight. He's got his sights set on this group, and he ain't gonna stop itchin' ass until he gets what he wants."

We best deal with the little present out there Governor'd left us."

Daryl looked out over the top of the window and down at the terminated Walker that Laurel and Beth had handled.

"They were better with that than I reckoned they might have been," Daryl remarked to his older brother, "dealin' with that thing. I guessed they would have freaked out, y'know, being girls."

"Maybe there's more to the two of 'em than meets the eye," Merle commented, opening up the balcony door of the guard tower. He grimaced at the dispatched corpse and Daryl asked,

"We burnin' it?"

"Nah," Merle replied, drawing in a sharp breath, "I'll go dump it outside the fence- fire'll just attract more Walkers. You cover my ass from up here, holler down if you see anythin' out of the ordinary, like... Jesus, this bastard stinks. Barely a day dead and it's already festering like a bad case of the Clap."

"Yeah, well you'd know all about that."

"Don't fucking remind me," Merle drawled, grabbing the corpse up underneath the arms and dragging it around the outer curve of the balcony.

"Back in a minute," he told Daryl, and began kicking the grey body down the heavy steps. Once it reached the bottom, Merle carried the corpse of the man over to the main gate, opening it up once Daryl had given him the all-clear. Merle dumped the body out of the way of the driving track and turned to leave; before he did, he bent down over the corpse, flipped it face-up and emptied out it's pockets.

Merle smirked, finding a dying lighter and three crumbling cigarettes. He opened up the mans wallet, which he for some reason had still kept on his person; his drivers licence read Scott Moon.

"Well, Scotty boy," Merle drawled loudly, closing up the wallet and tossing it aside, "thanking you kindly for your hospitality. You have a good sleep now- n' say hello to the Big Man for me."

**~oOo~**

**AN: SUPER SPEEDY UPDATE!**

**Hope you liked this chapter, guys!**

**Fun fact: poor old Scotty Moon was a woodbury resident in the comics. In 'The Governor's Special', he is the dude who gatheres the fishtanks the Governor puts the heads in and ultimatley, his is the first head to be displayed. #uselessinformation**

**Just as a side note- someone messaged me on Deviant Art about this story, saying that they wanted more romancey m-bits and bobs- with regards to that, I know if feels like forever, but remember- the whole story so far has taken place over the course of four days- the last 8 chapters have been over one day, a day that still hasn't ended yet XD I want to make the story seem as real as possible, as personally I find nothing more cringey than rushed romance ;D**

**Please review, be it a hundred words or just one- they really encourage me to keep on going. And if anyone has any questions, please feel free to ask :)**

**Have a wonderful few days until the next chapter!**


	21. Chapter 21: Gourmet

**Chapter Twenty-Two:**

**Gourmet**

The showers were wonderful.

Or at least, that was Laurels opinion. Glenn had been right about the water- it wasn't fit to drink, but it was sure good enough to wash in. The generators in the D block were running low on power, which meant only ten minutes each were awarded to each gender; _'ladies first'_ had been the policy, which no man had been brave enough to argue with. The water spouted out at a slow pace, but it was appreciated all the same.

"Jesus, I can't believe it," Maggie said, letting water spout over her head, "I thought I'd got a head shot- I'm sorry, Beth, Laur. I should have gone and checked-"

"Don't worry," Laurel laughed it off, "we were fine. It'll take more than a Walker with its foot caught to outsmart a pair like us."

"It could have got free, ended up wandering around the yard- could have got someone-"

"Don't worry, Maggie," Beth tried, "It didn't happen. It's dead, and everyone's fine. Now we know for next time, we've gotta get more rigorous with our patrols and that."

Maggie smiled weakly, squirting conditioner into her palm.

"Hopefully there won't be a next time." The last thing any one wanted was another visit from Woodbury's forces, however vain their hope might be.

"Haven't felt this clean in months," Maggie called to the other women through the wall dividers, massaging the conditioner Laurel had retrieved from the store through her short, shining hair.

"Mm, it's gorgeous," Carol agreed, indulging in the thick fragrance of the scented body wash. "And new clothes as well," she thought of the rosebud vest she'd saved and felt genuinely excited at the prospect of being able to wear something clean and beautiful at last.

"It's a dream," Laurel added, sweeping the razor blade down her gel-smoothed calf. The blade nicked her skin near the ankle and she winced, pulling a face to herself in her cubicle as a thin stream of red went swirling itself down the drain.

When they had finished showering, the women shared a couple of towels to dry off with, then pulled themselves into their new underwear and clothes, feeling fresh and revitalized.

As Carol changed, Laurel noticed a thick scar across her abdomen.

"C section," Carol explained lightly, pulling the dark red tank she'd chosen earlier over her head.

"Sorry," Laurel said quickly and blushing, not having meant to stare, "I wasn't-"

"That's alright," Carol reassured her, still smiling acutely as she fiddled with the shoulder straps on the top. This new bra was a little loose, so she used her long fingers to shorten the fiddly straps. Laurel, having recovered from her embarrassment, took in the depth of Carol's words.

"She died," Carol explained, a smile to hide the sorrow which immediately struck her at speaking those terrible words.

"Oh gosh," Laurel breathed, "I'm so sorry. That must have been..." Laurel's scentence broke. What could you say to a woman who'd lost the most precious thing in the world, her own child?

"I can't imagine."

"No," Carol breathed through the steam, the clinging smile still on her face as her mind went bluntly vacant. "No, you can't, sweetheart."

Carol absently admired the rosebud top in the steamed plasti-mirror as she passed it on the way out, the dark red fabric hugging closely to her gaunt skin. Beth was in a pair of pink knee-length sweats and a white tank top, Maggie in the same vest with black pants. Laurel wore salvaged denim jeans with a black shirt; none of them in anything special, but all of them feeling considerably better about their appearances. The four women, pleased with their fresh endeavor and hair dripping wet, scooped up their discarded dirty clothing and headed out of the shower block.

"All done," Maggie called to Glenn, who had been stationed just outside of the shower door. The old, battered clothes they had been wearing previously were dumped in one of the D block's empty cells, and the girls headed with Glenn as their escort back to block C, helmets and bullet vests shielding their bodies. Carol and Maggie took watch, and Laurel and Beth went back in, Beth tending to the babies as Laurel set up to start dinner. It felt good to have something to do, and to be clean while doing it.

The men showered, less infused than the women, some shaving their stubbled faces. When they were finished they found their way into their new clothes- Daryl in the cotton shirt Carol had saved especially for him, fixed up with his old jeans, Glenn in plaid and grey trousers, Merle in a black wife-beater and open shirt which seemed to disapprove of the breath of his wide shoulders, refusing to give up his combat pants despite their worn state. Axel wore the same black shirt as Merle in a smaller size, Carl took up a man's shirt which he had to roll high up his small arms; Hershel stuck with a new shirt, new pants which he tied off beneath his stump and his suspenders.

"Bring back water for the babies," Carol had told Glenn, so he and Axel carried two washing tubs full of the remaining water from the drained canisters as they made for block C's door.

"-Oh crap, the pasta's boiling over!"

Laurel jumped up with a strange noise from her position beside Beth on the bench, where the two of them had been talking about what they'd studied in school. Muttering under her breath scoldingly to herself, Laurel took the pan off the heat, allowing the water to simmer down and letting up the heat a little. As she was doing so, Axel and Glenn came back into the cell block, carrying in the water preserved for the babies. They set it down beside Beth on the table, and explained it's purpose.

"Good thing, too," Beth said, "Judy hasn't been properly clean in ages. Did you guys get any baby powder while you were on that run?"

"There might be some somewhere," Axel said doubtfully, knowing he hadn't picked any up.

"I didn't grab any," Laurel called over, stirring the aldante pasta, "didn't see any when we were sorting through the stuff, either- oh Lord," the froth of the pasta was boiling forth again, and some of it spilled out onto Laura's arm.

"Shit!" Laurel spat in shock and a flash of pain, pulling her scalded arm away and cradling it in her hand. "Piece of- agh!"

"Here," Glenn advised, steering Laurel towards the water they'd brought in; she plunged her forearm in the cold water and sighed in relief. Glenn moved back to the stove and adjusted the pan before it could spill it's contents all over the floor.

"Do you want me to fetch a bandage?" Beth asked, standing ready to fetch the meds box, but Laurel shook her head brightly.

"It's fine, just a little sizzled- Jesus, that hurt-"

"A woman who can't cook," Merle grinned, sauntering through the door to the cell block and observing the scene before him. "Who'da thought."

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," Laurel mused, brightened up by her new found cleanliness and having something to do- Merle had been right about distraction. She took her sore arm back out of the cold water and moved up to the kitchenette.

"Don't give me that shit, girl, you could go through a hella lot worse than just a burnt up arm- I should know." He waved his prosthetic at her and she brushed her hair swiftly out of her face, sticking her tongue out at him. Definitely feeling better, Merle thought.

"Here," Merle offered, walking over and taking the handle of the pan in his hand- it looked ready to drain.

"Thanks," Laurel chimed, smiling up at him briefly as she placed the caullinder over the sink. Merle leaned in closer for a second as he emptied the saucepan over the utensil and murmured, "you scrub up pretty well, Cher."

"You too," Laurel mused, breathing in the amplified smell of his body wash through the sudden blaze of steam, coming off his neck which was level with her head; he smelt all man, like worn leather and charred smoke. It made her head dizzy.

"Stop, I'm blushing," Merle joked thickly, skewering a piece of the fleshed out pasta with his bayonet and biting it off the end.

"Eww, not in the food," Laurel rebuked him, smacking his metal joint away from the sink, "you've had all sorts of gunk on that, guts and blood and all that other shit-"

"I've cleaned it since," Merle defended, nudging her in the arm playfully and taking another piece. Laurel fluttered and brushed her hair back from her face again.

"Open this," she ordered, handing him a tin of sweet corn curtly.

"Is that why y'all have kept me around so far?" Merle called not only to her but to the rest of the group, "couldn't find a can opener so you thought I'd do just fine?"

Laurel smirked, taking the can off him with thanks once he'd skewered it open roughly and scraping the contents into the pasta. She handed him a second tin, this time of tuna, and he rolled his eyes before effortlessly stabbing it through.

"Merle Dixon in a kitchen," Laurel smirked, placing the empty saucepan on the side after emptying the tuna into the pasta bowl and taunting after him, "who'd of thought."

"Just lendin' my helping hand," Merle said, handing the caullinder of strained pasta back to Laurel, "Lord knows I've only got the one."

Laurel mixed the contents in the bowl and started dishing it up with Beth's help.

"Thank ya, darlin'," Merle winked, taking a bowl for himself and Daryl from Laurel quickly, carrying the second rested in the crook of his arm.

"There's more left if you want it," Laurel called to the two Dixons, setting aside food for everyone else and herself.

"He's gonna be wantin' more," Merle shrugged, "Boy's got a stomach like Mary Poppins' handbag." he remarked, then disappeared up the metal staircase with his brother.

"The hell was that?" Daryl asked awkwardly, moving quickly ahead of the older Dixon.

"What was what?" Merle shot back at him slowly, and Daryl found a place leaning up against one of the rails, far out of earshot from the others.

"You, and whatever that was with Laurel," Daryl chided, staring at Merle hard for a second. "You were… flirtin' with her."

Merle turned his head inquisitively with a firm expression, inviting Daryl to go on.

"You dirty old bastard."

Merle frowned at his little brother, and Daryl frowned back.

"Why have you gotta fuck around with everybody?" the younger Dixon snapped quickly, "it's bad enough all the shit going on with Glenn and Maggie, you start fucking around with her-?!"

"Who said anythin' about fucking around? Can't a man talk to a sweet little thing like her without getting hung out on his ass?"

"I seen the way you had your eye on her just. Today at the store as well," Daryl scolded him, "and I know you'd have been worse If the rest of us weren't there. Glenn or Rick catch on to whatever the hell it is you're playin' at, they're gonna string you up."

"Yeah, and you'll be the one pullin' the chair from my feet, by the looks of the way you're down on your knees sucking off Sheriff Rick all the time," Merle noted, shaking his head.

Daryl gave his brother a burning look and snatched his bowl of pasta from the crook of his arm. "You just keep your hand off that girl. She ain't even legal yet, and you're hangin' around her like a dog in a butchers."

"Lookin's a lot different to touchin'," Merle told his younger brother as he scratched the back of his head, "and there ain't much left to look at in this world, is there? It's not like I'm fucking the kid. 'Sides, there's bigger problems in this world for you to worry about than whether or not you're big brother's checking out the local scenery."

"She ain't 'scenery'- ain't just something for you mess around with cuz you're bored," Daryl scolded him; "she's a person. And for some mad reason she goes and decides to trust you… fucking hell, Merle."

"Spare me the sonnet, Romeo," Merle spat, "I ain't blind like you, I know how the game works- Hell, I've been playin' it long enough. Not that you'd know anything of it, boy. You gonna start knockin' on that skinny woman's boots or you gonna let Axel jump in?"

Daryl almost visibly squirmed.

"I reckon we should jump," he suggested after a long while, wanting to avoid the direction Merle was taking the conversation in. "just the two of us."

"I been tellin' ya that from the start, kid," Merle jibed, slapping Daryl affectionately on the shoulder to show his approval.

"Not like that," Daryl told him, cotching down on the rail of the balcony, "I mean we go out and scout the roads, take a map, see if the Governor's got men on 'em."

"Takin' a look under the bed to see if there's any monsters there ain't gon' make 'em go away, little brother."

"Yeah, but if we do have to leave- just take up the trucks and drive out- we need to know which way to go, don't we? We don't wanna go drivin' down some road clogged up with that son of a bitch's toy soldiers. We might even be able to take some of 'em out."

"And get our asses killed while we're doing it," Merle rebuked him, munching away on the food he'd been provided. "Eat, boy. Get some meat on your scrawny bones."

"I ain't scrawny," Daryl said, shoveling up more food as though to prove it.

"Hell you ain't. Look worse than I did when I first started on Crystal. You've shed pounds since this whole thing started- look at your arms. 'D get more meat off a starvin' sparrow."

"These are crossbow arms," Daryl defended, "and I ain't planning on bein' nothin's meal any time soon." He watched his brother for a minute awkwardly, as Merle churned down the food; he found himself almost subconsciously trying to finish his own bowl first in the childish hope of proving something. Ass hole as he could be, Merle was right about scouting the roads, Daryl realized. How was it all his ideas seemed dumb when he explained anything to Merle? He made him feel like a kid all over again, skinny and awkward and bumbling over his own heels to prove himself to his big brother.

_You're pathetic,_ Daryl thought to himself, and the words sounded like Merle's in his head. _Man up, you pussy._

"Rick wants to meet up again later," Daryl told his brother sharply. They had shared the whole day together- for the first time in months, even before the Walkers appeared- and only now did he think to tell him. "He wants to

"Do you reckon anyone's still alive?" Daryl asked his brother, "anyone from back home?"

Merle thought for a minute. "Not likely. Maybe uncle Jesse, he was hard as nails."

"Jesse's dead," Daryl told Merle, "I told you that in the beginning."

Merle looked slightly surprised. "Holy shit," he quipped, "I'd forgot you'd told me. Shouldn't try tellin' me things when I'm high, boy."

Daryl shuffled on his perch, looking down before asking Merle a question.

"Do you miss anyone?"

Merle thought for a long moment again, biting hard on his top lip.

"...I miss Sally Johnsons' tits. Not much else, though."

Daryl said his next words quietly, as though they might trigger something.

"Not even Dad?"

Merle rolled his jaw and gave Daryl one of them looks.

"Our old man was a piece of shit," he reminded his brother, "and I'm glad he's dead. I'd have killed him myself if I'd known he was doin' that to ya."

Merle gestured to the scars on Daryl's back; his little brother clutched at the fabric of the plaid shirt Carol has given to him, averting his eyes self-consciously.

Daryl knew what look would be on his face right about now- It would be that look he'd worn for Merle often, whenever he was embarrassed or uncomfortable. He wore it when Merle had shown him up in front of the other kids in the neighborhood, when he'd tell Daryl to man up after he'd fallen off someone else's borrowed bike and scuffed up his gangly knees.

"Suck it up, beanpole," Merle would say, straightening out Daryl's scruffy clothes and poking him in his ribs, "those better not be tears I can spy creepin' up in your eyes. You're a man now, ain't cha, and men don't cry. You ever seen me cry?"

Daryl always shook his head. Merle didn't cry; not even when Pa was mad and being scary, throwing things around the house and shouting at Ma, not even when he'd beat on Merle when he came home from the bars in the middle of the night.

Those nights were the worst, and Daryl would cry then; he would cry because he could hear Mom crying, and she was crying because she could hear Pa shouting and his belt going across Merle's back and she was too scared to go and help. Merle was the only one who never made no noise on those nights. When Dad left again to go back to the bar with whatever money he'd found, which usually wasn't much at all, Merle would come back up to their room with his shirt off and his back still bleeding, and he'd sit on the end of Daryl's bunk with his hands held together and just stare out of the window until Daryl couldn't cry no more and he just fell asleep. But Merle never cried, not even once.

_Merle never cried._

**AN: DIXON CHILDHOOD= RIGHT IN THE FEELS**

**and OMG GUYS. OVER 100 REVIEWS. I am flabberghasted- thank you so much! Give me a high-five! xxx**

**Please review guys! x:D**


	22. Chapter 22: Reality

**Chapter Twenty-Three: **

**Reality**

Carol and Maggie sat up in the left guard tower, staring out at the darkening land. The lack of on-site Walkers was certainly comforting- it was almost peaceful, not having tons of the scraping things caught up against the inner fence. They were far easier to live with when they were at a distance.

Maggie seemed distant again. Carol couldn't ignore the fact, and there was certainly no disputing it; she, along with everyone else, was not certain what had happened in Woodbury, with Merle, with the Governor- but she had a rough idea.

Hershel seemed as though he intended upon pretending the whole ordeal had never happened, Beth likewise; Glenn had been avoiding Maggie to a certain extent, though he was still very aware of her every move; he had been overly concerned with Maggie's behavior, asking her repeatedly if she was certain that it would be alright to take watch again;_ perhaps you should sleep, maybe it would be better if you got some rest instead-_ but Maggie didn't want rest. She wanted to be busy, she didn't want to have to be still. When she was still, she began to think, and when she began to think, she thought of nothing but... _him._ She didn't want to blame Glenn, and it was becoming easier not to, but he just didn't understand, and she hated that he didn't, but she hated even more that he was trying to understand what she had gone through. It broke her heart to see him try, and it broke her heart to know that he could never succeed. There was no way he could ever understand... no way. She couldn't touch him, and there was no way, no way she could let him touch her. She felt... dirty, _still,_ even though days had passed and she'd showered. She had tried her hardest to scrub it away, scratch off the filth that still clung to her skin from the Governor's greedy hands, but she could still feel them there, groping her, touching her. The thought made her feel sick again. Maggie closed her eyes and imagined she was back on the farm, some where that was cool and safe, free from Walkers and trials and men.

**~oOo~**

Back inside the cell block, Laurel and Beth were sat facing each other on the screwed-down table where the kitchenette was, choked with steam as the pasta they had set up boiled away in the slow cooker.

"You'll have to keep them open!" Laurel instructed with a laugh, as she hovered the mascara brush near Beth's left eye, digging a fork into her pasta with the other hand.

"How can you do it?" Beth screeched lightly, blinking away from the imposing brush as the steam from the cooking stung her vision, "what if the gloop goes in my eye?"

"It won't," Laurel demanded, "stop being such a woss- look up!"

"Alright, alright," Beth smiled, letting Laurel coat her lashes with the umber mascara. Laurel had already applied powder to her own face, over-excited by the chance to do something creative and normal; the lift in her appearance had also lifted her mood.

"You never wore any makeup at all before all this?" Laurel asked, and Beth shook her head, choking a little on the steam still in the thickness of the air from the broiled pasta.

"Not really- daddy didn't like it, not after the way Maggie was. I mean, on special occasions I put on a little with Patricia, but..."

"Go like this," Laurel instructed, pulling a face that stretched her lips wide. Beth mimicked it, still trying explain to Laurel even with her mouth open, as the other girl smudged some balm over her friend's pale lips.

"Gorgeous," Laurel smiled, buffing some powder onto Beth's face for lack of foundation. The effect gave her a soft-focus look and made her young face seem refreshed.

"I wish I was as pretty as you," Laurel delivered honestly, admiring Beth's baby face and high collarbones. Beth brushed her comment off, embarrassed yet flattered, and looked up in the mirror at the back of the far cell the other side of the room. She did look nice, she thought to herself. This was the first time in Lord knows how long she'd actually felt pretty. Beth ran a hand over her collar bones and brushed her long blonde hair behind her head. Laurel watched her, a smile on her face, as Beth admired her work in the looking glass.

"Do you wanna have a go at doing my eyes?" Laurel offered, and Beth nodded a little excitedly, setting back over with a renewed smile and twisting the brush in the barrel.

"You have to brush most of it on the side of the vial, or you end up looking like Alice Cooper."

"Who?" Beth asked, and Laurel just smiled.

"Never mind."

Beth cautiously raised the brush to Laurel's eye, hand a little unsteady, and proceeded to touch her lashes with it gently.

"Wiggle it and it'll make sure it gets all over," Laurel advised her friend, motioning with her fingers; carefully Beth continued applying the dark substance until Laurel's left upper lashes were completely coated.

"Should I do the bottom, too?"

"God no, it looks well creepy without eyeliner. I never used to bother with it, anyway. Or foundation, really."

"Did you used to practice it at slumber parties and stuff?" Beth asked, reminiscing on gatherings she'd never had.

"Nah," Laurel smiled, "me and my mates were more the kind to sit on the floor with DVD box sets and chocolate, talking about crap until we passed out from sleep deprivation." Laurel chuckled as she said it, though she felt a little sadness. She thought of the friend who'd traveled with her in the beginning, Violet, and of how she'd killed herself that first night they'd met up with Darren and his parents. Perhaps, if it wasn't for that gun, she'd still be here- maybe she'd be sat beside her on this bench, reminiscing over days gone by with Beth.

Beth patted some of the moisturizing balm onto Laurel's lips.

"Daddy never let me go to parties and stuff. He always used to say they were just full of alcohol, drugs and bad influences; Daddy doesn't know all that much about teenage girls, I suppose."

"Dads never do," Laurel affirmed, thinking of her own as she played with the ends of her tawny hair with it's withering highlights. Oh God, she missed her family, dysfunctional as they were. There was always a chance, though, that they were still alive; even if she never saw them again, if there was even a chance they were safe somewhere, she knew she could keep on. Better not to know either way for sure; that way, there was always hope.

Daryl slicked his way down the rig of steps, jumping the last three in a childish flourish. He tried to style it out, chewing hard on the inside of his cheek, and muttered something about going to find Rick as he blustered through the fray of the group. Axel sat on the steps next to the door, and he shuffled over as Daryl moved to bypass him.

"Hold up a sec, baby brother," Merle called, chasing down the stairs after him, "I'm comin' with ya."

"I'll be alright by myself," Daryl told him, turning to Merle, "I ain't gonna get lost or nothin'."

"Yeah, well I'm comin' anyway," Merle drawled, a little indignantly, "hey, don't walk out on me when I'm tryin' to have a conversation with ya, boy- where's them manners I taught ya?"

Daryl scoffed. "Manners? You? I've seen swine with better manners."

"You watch that tongue if you want it to stay in your skull, boy." Merle looked over at Beth and Laurel, both of whom were struggling to repress smiles. Merle looked asthough he might say something to the two, but Axel intervened.

"Leave 'em be," Axel laughed from across the room, "they're just having some fun."

"Yeah, well that ain't no excuse to act like retards."

"That ain't never stopped you before," Daryl smirked, and Merle threw a poorly delivered smack at his baby brother.

Laurel let out a bubbly laugh at Daryl's wit and Merle gave her a nonchalant look.

"You think that's funny, Daisy duck?"

"_'Daisy duck?'_" Laurel taunted, cheerful at last, "that the best you could come up with?"

Merle clicked his tongue at her.

"The hell is this, Barbie's beauty salon?" He asked the girls, observing the short array of products on the table between them, "y'all plannin' on braiding Axel's mustache? Hell, Daryl's head of princess hair's probably long enough now for ya to thread a few pretty pink beads in."

"We're just messing around," Laurel told him. "I saw up some make-up at the store- couldn't resist taking a couple of things. Hide the ugly," Laurel smirked, eyes closed, as Beth pressed a thin veil of translucent powder over her pale skin.

"Well, that's gotta be the smartest idea I've ever heard," Merle drawled sarcastically and with unintentional spite, "Governor's men stood out on our door mat, and you two decide to doll yourselves up. Make yourselves look nice and pretty for the _rapists_."

Beth dropped the powder palette in her hand, and it snapped shut on the seat of the bench before coming to settle on the pale grey floor.

_Silence._

_Wrong move, _Merle's subconscious told him, as though he hadn't already figured that out when he was saying it. His eyes went straight to Laurel, whose expression was a horrified blankness that made her look asthough she'd just been slapped about the face, skin draining white beneath the thin powder on her cheeks. She uttered some form of apology to the room's entirety, before slipping off the table and quickly sweeping herself away in the main cell block, the gentle swish of her toes against the flooring the only sound.

Merle looked between the two other men in the room expectantly a few moments later; both stared back at him with uncertain expressions. Daryl looked angry somewhat, but Axel just looked like that was the most uncomfortable thing he'd ever witnessed.

"Oh, come on," Merle defended shortly, "don't act like the both of you weren't thinkin' it."

The new baby gave a blustered cry, wailing in his make-shift cot- Axel awkwardly stood and made his way over to the child, scooping him up in his arms and using him as a distraction to channel his discomfort upon.

"Come on, coca bean," he told the child, bouncing him on his knee and carrying him through to the main cell block. On the balcony above, Axel could hear Laurel pacing.

"You should say sorry to her," Beth told Merle shyly after a few more prolonged seconds, surprised she'd even managed to come out with it. What he'd said- it wasn't on, however true it might be. Heck, she was struggling not to run off herself right about now- those words, the thing she'd been fretting over for days now... she knew he was right, what he'd said was true. _Stupid not to think that way,_ she reasoned. Should have been her first thought when Laurel had told her about the make-up she'd brought back. But the normality of it, the escapism from the reality that such a simple thing as doing each other's make-up had offered, had been too desirable a temptation for either of them to even think of the reality.

Beth blushed furiously even as the words left her lips, but managed to maintain eye contact with the imposing man.

"I ain't apologisin'," Merle stated coldly, piercing Beth with those icy eyes. They made her squirm inside, they were so darn mean. Merle arched his back arched up against the desk, kept on looking at her. "This ain't no theme park, girly. This is a war. If y'all ain't grown up enough to realize that, you ain't gonna live much longer out here."

"You can't talk to her like that," Daryl demanded quickly, once again angered by his brother's behavior.

"I'll talk to her how I want, boy," Merle snapped, "that's the reality of the situation. Bad things happen, and they're sure as hell gonna happen to us all at some point, don't you forget it. You people might think it's a great idea to try n' bullshit yourselves and everyone else into thinkin' the world ain't really all that bad, but here's the thing: it is. No such thing as kittens and puppies no more. They've all been eaten by the dead, who in case you haven't noticed, have sprung up and are walkin' around out there, just waitin' to eat ya skin raw off ya bones. And that's not to mention our one-eyed friend who's hangin' about out there, ready to ram the doors down and kill us all without so much as a how-dee-do. That's the reality, and rememberin' it is what'll keep you alive."

He spoke that last part directly to Beth, who found the courage somewhere inside of her to talk back to him.

"I know what the world is like now," she said defensively. "So does Laurel."

Merle scoffed, brushing his hand over the short hairs at the back of his neck.

"You don't know the half of it, kid," he told her, and shoved past Daryl and out into the cold of the courtyard.

**AN: Oh god, that was... that was tactless, Merle. For the love of God, think before you speak. **

******Review, guys! They really do keep me going! :D**

**And out of interest- what are your predictions for season 4? Personally i'm wondering how they're going to fit the tyreese x rick bromance from the comics (if they include it at all- God I hope they do) in with the daryl x rick bromance they've got going on. Thoughts?**

**Love love! x**


	23. Chapter 23: Nightmares

**Chapter Twenty-Four: **

**Nightmares**

Laurel stood above the sink in her room, hands clutched around the cold edge of the bed sheet which she held. She scrubbed it against her face once more, trying to wipe away the last of the beauty products that remained, successful in all but irradiating the charcoal mascara, most of which still wept beneath her irritated eyes.

_Stupid,_ Laurel thought, working hard into the corners of her lids, causing them to sting and her vision to falter. Cradling her face in her hands, Laurel found her way to the edge of the bed and held her face there, trying to shut down her mind; the things she had seen and learnt today, the fears and threats which the day had brought, were proving more difficult to cope with than she could ever have imagined. She looked over into Merle's cell, the floor of which was ribboned with torn mattress parts, white flecks of fabric scattered about like pellets of snow. Laurel dropped the edge of the blanket into her lap and started to count each strip of fabric in an attempt to shift her focus to something less straining, less painful to contemplate.

_one, two, three..._

**~oOo~**

Merle had found himself sat on the floor underneath the main guard tower where he had pulled Laurel earlier, when his brother had let it slip that every one was heading to be a Walker. He'd had her settled again, less shook up and scared- he'd felt good about that, being able to cheer her up. Hell, he'd even had her flirting with him, and there was nothing he could think to happen in a long time that was much better than having a cute little thing like her trying it on with him, of all people. Now look at the pair of them- a couple of true words delivered a little too harshly, and she'd swung straight back to that dark place she'd been earlier. Probably upstairs crying again, scared to hell that what he'd suggested was true.

Everyone knew it was.

So here he sat, back pressed against the webbed fence supporting the stairwell, eyes closed like that could stop him having to think about it all.

_Fuck it,_ he thought- he didn't need any of this shit. He had enough crap going on without having to tip-toe around every word he said; if the truth was too much for the pair of them girls to handle, that was their problem, not his. And if Daryl was gonna be a pussy and get pissy over him telling a couple of kids the reality of the way the world worked now, he could fuck off. This group of democratic twats had turned his brother, a Dixon, into a little bitch; more sensitive than a girl on her period. Hell, maybe that was what was up with Laurel.

_You're what's up with Laurel,_ his head snapped at him. Merle tried to wave the thought away, but it had already stuck.

_Why do you give a shit?_ he asked himself. He didn't know this girl- he'd only met her three days ago, shouldn't give a damn what she thought, and especially not what she felt. But he couldn't deny that he did. It bothered him, knowing he'd upset her- _Again,_ he reminded himself.

"This is bullshit!" he spat out loud, slamming his prosthetic against the metal grate of the stairwell and cursing loudly- it fucking hurt, that was for sure, and didn't do much good in making him feel any better.

**~oOo~**

Half an hour had passed since Laurel and Merle had removed themselves from the wreck area.

Beth added a stream of water from the hot kettle to the bath water provided for the infants, collected from the barrels in the D block showers. She and Daryl were the only ones there- Rick had allocated double the usual amount of people on watch, and the others had followed Carl into the libary he had unearthed, not too far from the mouth of the tombs. Beth tested the warm liquid with her elbow, until it was just the right temperature to bathe the babies; Judith was asleep, Daryl sat watching her and stroking her thin hair, so she picked the new baby up out of the make-shift cot, laid him on top of a folded blanket and started to undress him, peeling away the filthy clothes which had once been baby blue.

"Oh, you poor thing," Beth breathed, removing the filthy vest; underneath the baby's arms were red, swollen sores, and when she removed the soiled diaper she found the same beneath his legs. She wiped his body over with some of the wipes Axel had retrieved from the store, then lifted him cautiously into the tub.

"Need a hand?" Laurel asked, coming back down the stairs. She had a smile plastered onto her face, but Beth saw the dark loops beneath her raw electric eyes and how pink her cheeks were;she tried tried her hardest to ignore the fact. She had discreetly attempted to remove her own makeup; Beth smiled as Laurel sad on the opposite side of the tub she had the rescued baby sat in.

"Aww, bless him," Laurel breathed, saddened by the sores on the babies premature skin; she wrapped a towel over her hands to act as a soft barrier then held the child by his underarms as Beth gently brought water over his raw skin.

"It must have been awful for his mom," Laurel tried, watching the baby and trying to comfort him as he wept at the water, "not being able to look after him properly- not having what she needed to keep him safe and healthy."

"I'm surprised he's not, like, really sick," Beth questioned, dripping water over the open sores, "being out there- living a nomadic life, I guess. It must have been really hard, being out there with a baby."

"It's horrible," Laurel sighed sadly.

Laurel noticed the traces of black that could still be seen beneath Beth's light eyes; when she saw this, she felt something tug tight in her chest.

"I'm sorry about the make-up thing," Laurel whispered, feeling her face rouge further. "It was a stupid idea, I should have-"

"Don't be silly," Beth smiled weakly, brushing her hair from her face. "We were just having some fun, that was all."

"It was stupid," Laurel repeated, refusing to accept Beth's attempts at consoling her idiotic actions. "I hate to say it, but Merle was right... and that scares me."

Beth bowed her head. It scared her, too- more than anything had ever scared her in her life. Everyone knew what could happen to them if the Governor came, but Daryl's brother was the first person to just go ahead and say it outright. The bluntness of it, the undeniable truth in what he was saying, that's what made it so terrible. The baby gave a high shriek, and Beth was kicked back into reality.

"I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry- just one more minute... come on Laur, let's get him out. He hates it in there, and he's clean enough now anyway, I think."

"Here, hun," Laurel cooed at the baby as she lifted him from the warm pool and laid him out against the blanket Beth had already folded for him, "that's better, isn't it?"

"I found some baby clothes in what you guys brought back," Beth told Laurel. "There's some antiseptic in Daddy's med bag- it'll sting, but it'll stop him getting infected- I'll go fetch it."

Beth stood, but before she walked on, she turned a little to Laurel.

"..."It scares me, too." Beth said quietly. "It really, really scares me."

Laurel reached her hand up to Beth and held onto the other girls. Beth's eyes welled weakly, as though weeks of fear and emotion had arisen, just through the simplest of statements.

"It's alright," Laurel cooed in an attempt at comfort. "We're gonna be alright. All of us." She wished she could believe it herself. Beth smiled and nodded gently, squeezing Laurel's palm before moving away to find the first aid bag. Laurel bit her lip and watched her as she went, her tiny frame slipping back into the main cell block. She turned her head, an ache in her stomach, to see Daryl, crouched over Judy's makeshift cot the other side of the room, arms folded over the back of it as he pulled faces down at baby Judith.

He'd let Merle go off after he'd said what he said to the girls- hell knows where he'd went. Probably at the back fence giving hell to a couple more Walkers who'd tried their way against the outer perimeter.

Daryl found himself watching Judith closely... so tiny and innocent. He liked the kids- they were easy to handle, had easy needs- so long as they were fed, changed, held a little and had plenty of sleep, they didn't need or want nothing else. Being with the babies was so much easier than being with the others- they all had feelings and relationships and grudges and cares, and Daryl found it difficult to keep up with who was feeling what and how he should react to everything that was going on. Carol confused him, with her kindness and her firmness- he didn't understand how she wanted him to be around her, if she wanted him to act like her son or like her boyfriend. But that didn't matter much at the moment- Merle was his biggest problem right now. Rick had made it clear that his big brother was his responsibility, and despite the countless talks and warnings, there was no reasoning with him; Merle had decided he didn't like Glenn, and that was that. Daryl couldn't see no way around the hate the two harbored for each other- and when it came to the new girl, Laurel; hell, that confused him even more.

Laurel wandered a little closer, carrying the new baby over, ready to place him back down safely and going to see if Judith was awake yet for her bath; she smiled and moved up to Daryl quietly, clearing her throat to make her presence known. Daryl turned, gave her a small awkward smile and shrugged backwards a little, leaning away from Judy in her crib and pulling a face at the new baby. He cooed a few choice words down at the infant, who grabbed hold of his thumb in response.

"He likes you," Laurel remarked kindly, watching as the baby looked up at Daryl. Daryl shrugged, crossing his eyes at the child as he sat in Laurel's arms, wrapped securely in the bed sheet blanket.

"Here," Laurel offered, holding out her hands invitingly and kneeling down beside him. Daryl gave her a quick, awkward nod, lifting the child into his own arms, though he still clutched to Laurel's thumb; uncertainly the two stood there, next to each other and connected by the clingy infant, smiling at the child's action. Daryl talked to the baby a little more, and bounced him playfully on his bent knee.

"You're good with him," Laurel complimented him eventually, "Judy, too."

"I'm alright with babies," Daryl admitted, blowing lightly on the face of the infant; the baby sneezed twice in succession and let out a high squeak.

"...It's everyone else I got a problem dealin' with."

Laurel was a little uncertain about how he'd meant it, but there didn't seem to be any hostility behind his words. "Things are a little crazy around here at the moment," she admitted.

"No more than usual," Daryl told her. "There's always some crazy shit going on around this place. Don't get a minute's peace."

"Would you have it any other way?" Laurel smirked, and Daryl smirked with a sardonic laugh.

"Keeps us all busy, I guess. Better to be busy than doin' nothin' at all."

Daryl wasn't sure whether or not he should bring up what Merle had said to her and Beth earlier; his brother was a tactless son of a bitch, but he didn't seem to have meant it nasty, and Daryl guessed he had been right in a way... well, he_ had_ been right, no guessing about it, but still. And it wasn't like he could really apologize for him.

"Merle feels bad for upsettin' ya," Daryl told her eventually, thinking that might help a little. Daryl gave her a quick look and let the baby in his lap play with the fray of his poncho. "He wouldn't of marched off if he didn't."

Something else came into Daryl's mind- the way his brother had been acting with this girl today. That made him feel uncomfortable, thinking about earlier- it had looked dodgy to him. But then again, this was Merle- he could make washing dishes look untrustworthy if he wanted to.

"He gives you any trouble," Daryl told Laurel seriously, "you tell me. I know what he can be like."

Laurel smiled, bowing her head. They all knew what Merle could be like- ass hole, racist, misogynistic, chauvinistic... a whole lotta other 'istic's. Yet he was honest underneath all the showy bullshit, and he did care, she reasoned; he cared about his baby brother, and maybe he cared a little about her too. She hoped he did.

"Speak of the Devil," Daryl muttered under his breath- Laurel looked discreetly to the side, and there was Merle, coming in through the main gate with a face like hell, rolling his bottom jaw. He looked left and right as though he were about to cross a busy street, then stepped into the cell block; Beth walked back in just as he appeared, and stopped for a moment in his path. Merle looked at her and shook his head, taking in her expression which lay somewhere between surprise and downright horror. Damn kid was scared of him.

Merle looked to where Daryl was knelt beside Laurel, the baby bouncing on his knee. No one said a word, and the two of them were avoiding looking at him; Laurel started fussing with the blankets around the baby unnecessarily, just for something to vent her discomfort upon, and Daryl kept his head low, turned from his brother.

Merle huffed quietly through his chest, and started walking over; Laurel tucked the blanket under the arm of the baby, securing it there, then brought the back of the fabric up over the underside of his head, where she began to dry off his soft dark hair, a tightening in her chest.

Merle stopped behind her, and saw Daryl turn his head away. Carefully, Merle leaned a little closer and tapped her shoulder with the back of his hand. Laurel turned her head a little and looked up at him awkwardly, with a strained little smile that looked more wavering than genuine.

"You alright?" Merle asked her with a face set in stone, his brow lowered.

"Yeah," Laurel flinched through the strained smile, keeping her hands busy with the baby's damp hair. As if in reassurance, she looked back up at him, her smile a little lighter.

"Yeah," she repeated, "I'm fine."

Merle gave her a half smile and looked over at Daryl- he still wouldn't look at him. The baby, wrapped up in his blanket, reached out his tiny hand and grabbed at the cuff of Merle's trouser leg. Daryl grabbed hold of the child's hand and pulled it away, rocking his tiny extremity between his thumb and forefinger. Merle let out a slow, meaningful breath and looked over to the window grill beneath the ceiling- night was setting in.

"S'gettin' dark," he told the others, a little surprised the rest of them hadn't come back to the main area yet. "I'm goin' up."  
Daryl and Laurel both nodded, and Merle looked over to Beth- she wasn't looking at him either, and instead was sat on the floor besides the baby's baths with the open medical kit, screwing and unscrewing the lids of the TCP bottles they had acquired. As Merle moved past her on his way up to his cell, she seemed to stiffen a little; he shook his head as he passed, feet thudding through the wreck room, down the column of cells and up the shaking metal staircase. Merle sat down on his bunk, and looked over into Laurel's cell; he set his hand against his forehead.

_What a day,_ he thought, rubbing his left temple with the calloused palm of his hand, then pinched the bridge of his nose; the tension remained, and showed no sign of letting up. Merle closed his eyes, lent his skull back on the hard bed and tried his best to clear his aching head with the medicine of sleep.

**AN: Thanks for reading!**

**OMG guys, 10,000 views!**

**A big thank you to everyone who's reviewed, some of the ones for the last chapter had me buzzing like a bee on hallucinogens- for those of you I can't thank by PM, like Katie, JoFrench22, Guest Smiling and Noname, thanks so much! You've made a poor little ff writer very happy *cries tears of magical joy* ****Big hugs for everyone! And please guys, leave a little review! ;)**


	24. Chapter 24: Dream-Catcher

**Chapter Twenty-Five:**

**Dream-catcher**

Merle woke up halfway through the night, plucked into consciousness by some horrible noise that kept on singing on the night air. He squeezed his eyes shut a minute, trying to pin point what it was in his lucid state, until he realized it was crying- not like the cryin' he'd already had to put up with from the two babies, that horrible car-alarm screeching sound, but softer, less desperate tones- hushed little whimpers, caught up in the darkness, quiet like they were being stifled. His little angel was crying her eyes out, he realized, and she didn't show no sign of letting up.

Should he say something? Probably not- was probably the last person she'd want to have to speak with after the day the two had gone through- still, he was the one who was there, not any of the others, so it was him or nobody.

"Darlin'?" He asked into the black, groggy from sleep. She went quieter then, as though she'd been caught red-handed in the middle of some crime, her little breaths more rasping and short like she was trying to hide them. He asked her the same question he'd managed earlier.

"...Y' alright, sweet heart?"

He heard her breathe in, choked like she was trying to compose herself, but she couldn't keep it up.

"No," she squeaked, and it was the saddest sound Merle thought he might ever have heard.

"Hey now," he tried, sitting himself up a little and opening his eyes, "ain't no need for none of that..."

The thin strip of moonlight which crossed between their cells showed him nothing of her as he looked over through the bars, where the dry gasps were coming from. A few more minutes passed, and he had no idea what to do; should he go over there, try and comfort her? Hell no. He'd found himself finding it hard to keep off her when she was fully clothed, never mind dressed down in a skimpy nightdress or whatever the hell she'd be wearing. But he couldn't just ignore her, not when she was like that.

He heard her bare feet touch the concrete and sat up; the moon's glow caught on her a little. She looked small, hunched over herself as though she were shying from the bitter glare of the white light, her hands drawn up close to her chest. She moved across the floor, over into the doorway of his cell and edged open the barred door. It screeched loudly, and Merle hissed.

_What was she doing, coming in here?_

"Do you mind?" Laurel asked, shy in the doorway. There was a weakness to the way she stood that made him frown.

_Course I do, _Merle thought; her coming in here in the middle of the night, wearing hardly nothing and in the vulnerable state she was in. In his experience, that was a recipe for takin' advantage of a situation at its best; he thought of all the things he could do with this little thing, scared and lonely, middle of the night, everyone else asleep- give her a hug, bit of TLC and a few choice words, and before you know it he could manipulate the clothes off her and have her any way he wanted. The rest of the group would be none the wiser in the morning, and a thing like her'd be too damn ashamed, or maybe just terrified of whatever she'd let herself get up to the night before with _him,_ an old dog with more experience in the game than there were light bulbs on a Christmas tree, that there wasn't a way in hell she'd ever let slip to anyone about it. He could fuck her once tonight, twice if he felt like it, and get off with it scot free.

But there she was, looking so fragile she might fade away, like the world was caving in all around her. So he nodded carefully and in she came, standing beside his cot and, quicker than if it was the only solution left, climbed up next to him. She leant her head gently on his shoulder, tucked up by his neck, and pulled her legs up by his side.

"Here now," He asked, letting his arm go up around her. She pulled in closer and he patted her back. "What's got you hurtin' so bad again?"

"Everything," Laurel snorted eventually, her hand bunching up against the front of his wife-beater, her shoulders against the fabric of his black shirt. "I had a nightmare about that poor woman, the baby's mom. And then everything else-"

"You gotta know I feel bad about today, darlin'," he told her quickly, thinking it might help if she knew. _Fucking hell, an apology out of a Dixon-_ well, he reasoned, he _was_ sorry for making her upset, even if he didn't think he had been wrong in the things he'd said. He knew he hadn't been, and so did she- maybe that was the reason it had got to her so bad. Plus, there wasn't no one else around to hear it, so what the heck? "I know I can be a prick sometimes- part of bein' a Dixon. The words just come out 'fore I know what I'm sayin'. Didn't mean to upset you again, not after the shitty day we've all had. I don't like seein' ya like this, 'specially knowin' I had a part in making you like it."

"No, you- you were right," Laurel told him, feeling stupid and pathetic again, "about the make-up thing- it was a stupid idea, I should have thought in the first place. God, I'm such an idiot. Fucking army of nutcase bastards at the gates and I'm putting my lipstick on- stupid."

"Still shouldn't have put it to the two of ya like that," Merle reasoned, shying his brows. Basically telling the pair of them they may as well have written_ 'rape me'_ across their foreheads… Jesus, what was he thinking? Tellin' something like that to a couple of scared little girls. No wonder Laurel went off.

Laurel held up in her hand the silver chain then that was tied about her neck, on the end of which was the dead woman's gold wedding ring. Merle eyed it, glittering in the lambent light, and frowned.

"I forgot I was wearing it," Laurel went on, sounding even sadder than before. "It was hers. I got it for the baby, thought he should have something... It's all that was left."

She didn't deserve none of this, Merle thought. He found that he hated that she was going through it, living in this long-dead world. He was already past it before the apocalypse had started- he'd blown his chances a thousand times, had already zapped any good that was in him, if it had ever been there at all; Meth-head ex-convict with no-one in the world to care about, least of all himself. But Laurel, she was new- should have been at University, College, enjoying herself and building a life for the future. Now there was no future, not for any of them; and that just wasn't fair.

_Life ain't fair,_ Merle reminded himself.

"You've got a better heart than most left on this world, sweet heart," Merle told her, rubbing her back as she heaved a gentle sob- but there didn't seem to be any tears. Perhaps they'd all dried up, all the things that had happened today, all the upset and the grief. Maybe there was nothing else left.

"You get it all out."

He held her there, shivering against his skin. He could see her pale legs, free of the nightdress she wore, pulled up against him in the pale moonlight like he was the only thing on earth she had, like she needed him there. Hell, maybe she did.

"We're all dead," Laurel whispered after a long, quiet time.

"Don't say that, Darlin'," Merle told her slowly, letting his hand come up into her soft hair comfortingly. He kept his other arm to his side. "Don't you even think on it."

"It's true, though," Laurel went on, seeming panicked in herself now. "All of us, you've said it yourself. Even the babies... oh God, oh God. They're going to try and kill you and Daryl, the other guys. And the rest of us..." Laurel thought even of Carl. "Oh, God."

"They'll have to kill me twice before I let any of those fuckers get within ten feet of ya," he consoled her, brushing his hand down her back. Laurel placed a hand on his chest, feeling the hardness beneath his shirt. Then, at last, her tears did fall.

He'd never been good with crying; usually bottled it and got out of there at the first sign, but he didn't want her sad like this, and if he was the one who'd make her feel better, that was alright with him; but he still couldn't understand why she'd want _him,_ of all the people in this dive, when she was in a state like this, sat up in the dark and crying like a bust up fountain- he wasn't exactly a teddy bear.

Maybe, he thought, it was because they'd been locked up in the dark first time they had met, talking to each other because there was no-one else; maybe that's why she seemed to see him as something different to what the others had saw, because she hadn't _seen _him first time around, couldn't judge the book by its cover, or heard the stories from the others. His rough look and mean face hadn't been there to scare her off, and she'd needed a friend, someone to talk to; seemed he'd been it without even knowing. Hell, maybe the pitch black was the same reason he didn't just see this kid as a nice bit of meat to sink his claws into; he'd had to listen to her, had heard the way her head worked, seen her sweetness and her youth way before he'd seen it in her face or her body. Maybe that was the reason he actually gave a shit about what she thought of him, actually cared what happened to this girl. Maybe the dark had done all of that.

He could feel the ice cold skin of her legs through his combat pants, clean shaven and soft from having a shower earlier, and as he put his face up against the back of her white cloud of hair he could smell the sickly tones of the shampoo she'd used- sugary like kids' medicine. It was nice, just having her there, his hand at the base of her spine as she breathed into him. Man could get used to a thing like this.

_More than this,_ he thought, and decided then he should move her quickly, before his hand started travelling further south.

"Here now," Merle told her, "ain't no time for cryin'... you need to go get your beauty sleep."

"Thanks," Laurel laughed oddly, nudging him with her forearm. He chuckled, his coarse fingers moving higher up her back and onto her naked shoulder.

"I didn't mean it like that, Cher," he said slowly, drawing it out on purpose. "You're lovely as pie, sleep or no sleep."

Laurel smiled, scuffed her head up against his shoulder and breathed heavily. She'd stopped crying, she realized; she felt a little brighter.

"Where'd you pick that up?" She asked lazily, "_'Cher',_ I mean? Isn't that French or something?"

Merle smiled. "Shared a cell with a Louisianan kid for some time," he explained. "Kermit, we called him, cuz he was Cajun. Hell knows what his real name was. Could barely understand a word he was sayin' he was so damn thick in his accent, but he used to holler 'Cher' at all the women guards. Some things just stick with ya, I guess."

Merle laughed quietly for a minute, remembering something.

"You know, this one time, me and him had been rollin' snouts-" Merle paused, realizing she might not know what he was talking about, and explained, "meaning cigarettes- with a bunch of about five other guys. Our block was on a half lock down cuz some guy had bashed one of the guards heads in. Anyway, we were rollin' up in the showers and one of 'em smelt the smoke- we shoved the butts down the drain and pretended like nothing had happened. Now this officer who came in, he was a new kid. Scrawny little bitch, ginger as a carrot and about half the size. He got us to all line up, tryin' to find out who'd been at it- all of us had, and he asked to smell our fingers, cuz when you've been rollin' nicotine it gets right in your skin, makes your hands stink to hell of it. Kid was workin' down the line- he'd already smelt the death grass on me, and I could see Kermit at the end of the line- he had his fingers down the back of his pants, and when this little Screw came around to sniff his fingers, he got a face full of French ass."

"Ugh," Laurel gurned, faintly laughing, "that's- vile…"

"Best thing was, the other wardens could see he was gonna do it- must have really hated the little shit, too." Merle laughed a little more, squeezing Laurel's side, then jibed, "Come on now- you've had your bedtime story. Time to go back to sleep."

"Just a minute," she whispered, sinking further into his warmth and closing her eyes, like she was trying to hibernate there. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath her. Merle knotted his brow. He didn't want to shoo her away; it's what he _did _want that was the problem. Wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out, just having her there, without trying something. She was getting sleepy too now- he could tell by the way she was leaning heavier against him. Couldn't deal with her falling asleep and being cooped up next to him all night. It'd drive him wild.

"Come on now," he consoled her again, shifting himself so that she was sat back straight and not against him anymore, "can't stay up in here all night... got a lot more work to do tomorrow to keep this place upright. Go get some sleep."

"'Kay," Laurel agreed lazily, leaning her head against him once more before crawling to her feet and slumping closer to the doorway. She faced him, smiling weakly, and chimed,

"Thanks, Merle."

Merle found he was smiling back. "See you in the morning, darlin'."

She waved her hand in his direction as she slipped out of the doorway, past the moonlight and back into her own room. He listened as she creaked back into bed then lay back down, the small smile still stuck on his face.

For the first time in- hell, he didn't know how long- he felt needed. Daryl didn't seem to want him as much anymore; he had Rick, and he had that woman of his and all these others. That narked him, he couldn't deny. It had always been just him and Daryl, at least in his mind; seemed Daryl didn't see it that way, not anymore. Regardless he was here for his brother, and not anyone else- but this little sweetheart was definitely climbing her way up the hierarchy of people he gave a shit about, and the list had never exactly been long. She'd crept up on him like honeysuckle, sweet and golden and he welcomed it. Could do with a little more sweetness in his life right about now.

And unlike Daryl, who had become strong all on his own now, she _did_ need looking after, how he saw it; made him feel useful, knowing she needed him. World like this was no place for these women, little things like her and the farmer's youngest daughter. Every one of these people knew it; was only a matter of time 'till something happened to one of them if they weren't careful. Hell, with the Governor coming, there was sure to be a hell of a lot of something's happening to all of the women here.

The thought of any man so much as trying to lay a hand on that little angel made Merle's blood itch in his veins; they needed to leave, he knew. He'd known it from the start, not that any of the thick fucks here had any fancy of listenin' to a word he said. It was the only way to get the Governor off their tails. _Get far away and cover the tracks, because a loopy bastard like him may well decide to follow us, _Merle thought- just like he had been sent after Michonne. But their lord and master Rick Grimes didn't want to leave, and that meant none of the others were planning on going anywhere either, including Daryl. So they'd stay here, wait for the Governor and hold out this place as long possible, then hope to God there was enough bullets left to put through their own heads before the Governor got his hands on them.

_Might have to put one through blondie's skull yourself,_ Merle thought, the image of Laurel coming to his mind. He'd do it if he had to- quick and in the back of the head. She wouldn't even know it was coming. Better a sharp bullet delivered by him than by one of the Governor's possy after they'd passed her around like a blow up doll and fucked her to pieces.

Then there was Daryl- Governor'd pull his baby brother apart piece by piece then let him wander around as a Walker till his muscles rotted off his bones. If the only way he could stop that happening was with a rifle and a hungry bullet, then so be it. Merle wouldn't let it happen. Not to his little brother. If they were all gonna die, so be it; better to go down fighting beside his baby brother than alone in the dark at the rotting hands of a ravenous Walker with a taste for southern fried.

And if they made it through all this shit with Woodbury by some miracle- hell, he might even kiss Rick himself.

Merle closed his eyes, lay back and drifted away on soft thoughts, golden hair and honey suckle and quiet whispers.

**AN:**

**One of my fave chapters I've written so far. Couldn't wait to upload it, just makes me squee!**

****** And the twelve chapter long day finally comes to an end. I feel a little emotional finally letting it go :') #havenolife**

**********I had a dream last night that gave me a great idea for way, way later on in the story. I must conquer the art of lucid dreaming, that I may talk with Merle in my subconscious and ask him wtf he'd do in certain situations a la plot-oriented. WHY, LDing, WHY ARE YOU SO DAMN HARD?!**

**please review guys, hope you enjoyed his chapter!**


	25. Chapter 25: Daylight

**Chapter Twenty-Six: **

**Daylight**

_Jesus Christ, _Merle thought, rolling on his side as the sunlight tried to creep up inside his room. He wasn't gonna let it in, he decided, and buried his face deep into the pillow to try to hold the morning at bay. The morning, however, was more persistent than he'd given him credit for, and shook him awake with the sound of early crows and the smell of cooking from downstairs.

"Good morning," called a sugary voice, and suddenly he felt less reluctant to get up after all.

He looked around; there she was, stood there in his doorway, rays from the yellow skylight coming up behind her as she leant there, half dressed in her mis-matched undies and a little white nightie that had dark blue birds printed all over it, not that he was paying much attention to the birds. He eyed her pins and skimmed her body, wondering how in the hell he ever got so lucky as to, right here at the end of the world, have something so cute propped up against his door frame like she was his.

_Kick yourself, Dixon, _his head told him,_ don't go gettin' no ideas. Kid ain't yours. She ain't nobody's._

"You gon' put on a cover up or somethin?" Merle asked, rubbing his sore eyes and trying to look anywhere but at her now, "You'll catch your death in that flimsy thing."

"I won't _'catch my death'_," Laurel said, rolling her eyes. "We're in Georgia, for Gods sake, there's hardly a chill in the air."

As if to affirm her statement, another orange beam of sun crossed over through the sky light, sparkling up her gold hair. Merle raised an eyebrow- how was it she didn't know all the things she was doin' to him right now he didn't know. Was like the damn girl was deaf, dumb and blind when it came to things like this.

"Yeah, well it ain't just the cold I'm a-worryin' about," Merle mentioned, not sure whether to avert his eyes or just gawk outright and face the consequences later. "Dress like that-"

Half of him- _more than half_, he admitted with a grimace- just wanted to push her down there on that unmade bed, buck her legs up and have her where she lay- lookin' the way she did he didn't know where the strength or the reason not to was coming from. Hell, he thought, he'd jump her pretty little bones so quick it'd leave her head spinning; but then there was that nagging voice pinching at the back of his neck that kept tellin' him he ought fetch her something_ himself_ to wrap up in, cover her up and get the hell out of there before he lost it completely. He was kinda wishin' for that dark back right about now.

"It's my pyjamas," Laurel defended, yawning with her hair creating a soft golden halo around her tired head.

"Pj's is a pair of house slippers and a robe-"

"Sorry, pops," Laurel murmured sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest, "I'll go and fetch my burkah so that my unholy ankles stop offending you."

"It ain't your ankles I was talkin' about," Merle marked, his eyes veering over her chest as she stretched eyes closed in the doorway, then he trailed his own down to her long legs. He was gonna have to stop lookin' before that other half of his brain just took over. Had been a long time since somethin' sweet and young as she was had been stood so close by him and wearin' hardly nothin' at all.

"You're gonna have to put somethin' on, or you'll give that old farmer downstairs a heart attack."

"I'm not going downstairs yet," she rejected, still half asleep and grabbing the blanket from his top bunk clumsily.

"Then I'll be the one havin' the heart attack," Merle mused under his breath, his instincts bouncing off themselves as he watched her come and sit down by him, the blanket now slung over one shoulder and covering up her side. She wrapped it comfortingly around herself and sat down on the bed, knees drawn up beneath the sheet.

Hell if she didn't look the sweetest he'd ever seen her; big panda eyes from the makeup she'd had on her face making little dried charcoal tear tracks down her sleep-flushed cheeks, scars of the night before, her lips pink and pouting from biting them in her sleep, that molten gold hair that swung around her head wildly in all different shades. He smelt that yellow candy smell from her hair again as she tousled her hand through it and waited for her to say something.

The two ended up sat there on his bunk facing each other for a good half an hour, telling one another stories from home; Laurel laughed so much she cried, twice. Eventually, sick with laughter, Laurel retreated to her own cell to find clothing for the day.

Merle watched her as she hunted around her cell for something a little more fitting, telling him a story about a disastrous vacation she'd been on some years back and laughing the whole time, her voice tinkling like bells. She pulled down her leather body vest and some of the clothes salvaged from the store they'd raided.

"Khaki or peach?" Laurel asked, interrupting her story, as she held two coloured tops out.

"The hell you askin' me for?" Merle dismissed, "I ain't exactly no fashion guru, am I?"

"That can be changed," Laurel teased, scrutinising the two fabrics in an attempt to make her decision, "personally I think the peach would suit_ you _best..."

"Go to hell," Merle jibed at her mirthfully, laughing under his breath.

"...Khaki," Laurel decided, folding the shirt. "I'm gonna go get dressed... see you downstairs in a bit."

Merle went to tease her, tell her he didn't mind her getting dressed where she was, but she'd already skipped down the hall before he could shout it, the clothes bundled up in her arms.

It was easier when she was there. She was like a bright little candle- she'd flicker back and forth, with that sweet little gaslight smile and her assets and her hot flame of hair, and for those moments her presence was enough to make him forget all the shit that was going on, or at least make it seem a little less important. Having crazy town's lead man banging down their front door didn't seem as urgent an issue when she was telling him some stupid story or whistling to herself and detangling those golden threads with her clumsy fingers. He could see he made it easier on her, too, and that made him feel better about himself. It wasn't long before he decided he was hungry, and pulled himself up off the bed. Quickly he glanced in the mirror above the sink- Jesus, he was looking rough. Needed a damn shave, and the cut on the bridge of his nose from where the little Asian shit had head butted him was looking bright red. He was gonna have to sort things out with Short Round at some point, he guessed- if they were gonna survive this hoopla with Woodbury, that meant they'd probably all be living with each other for a long time- couldn't live in the same space and be throwing punches back and forth every time they got heated with each other. But fuck if he was apologising- the pizza boy'd just have to get over whatever the hell his problem was.

"Mornin', boys and girls," Merle yawned as he came down the stairs- the wreck hall was pretty much empty, all but Laurel and Axel.

"The hell is everybody?" Merle asked, and Axel answered, "Rick's got everyone banging up against the outer fence to distract the Walkers so he can run out with your bro and Glenn to grab a couple more cars, just to use as bullet shields. We've ran out of them metal panels we were usin'."

Mere nodded, then looked over to Laurel- she was munching away on something out of a can, keeping an eye on whatever was being made in the kitchen.

"What'cha got cookin', good lookin'?" Merle asked her, coming up by her side and peering over into the vat.

"Just oats," Laurel explained, a mouth full of sweet corn that had been left over from the pasta the night before. Merle watched her eating it with a taught expression.

"How the hell can you eat that shit raw like that?" he asked, and Laurel shrugged.

"It's tasty."

Merle stepped back a little, smirking at her as she hummed to herself and swayed between the oats on the stove and checking up on the baby they'd brought back with them yesterday. Watching her walk back and forth, he kinda started to wish she was still wearing that little night-dress. Wouldn't mind getting some more looking done. Then he remembered Axel was also in the room, and suddenly felt like he didn't want her half-dressed right now after all.

"We need to give the baby a name," Laurel suggested, picking a book up from the side. "He can't not have one, after all. Carl picked this up in the library last night. When the others come back in, I think we should decide- make it a group thing. Might lift everyone's spirits a little more, don't you think?"

"Well, we can't go callin' it somethin' real English," Merle directed.

"Him," Laurel corrected. Merle shrugged it off.

"Why not?" Axel proposed, "he's gonna feel a little weird growin' up around all us folks with a name like... Pablo or Che."

"Cuz he ain't English," Merle replied.

"Neither are you," Laurel pointed out quickly. "My name's Latin, doesn't mean I have to be Italian."

"Yeah, but you ain't chocolate colored," Merle drawled, and Laurel frowned at him from over her shoulder.

"This is a new world," she said. "Doesn't matter what colour you are, where you're from- not that it ever should have in the first place. There aren't many of us left, whether we're black, white, Hispanic, Asian, or every colour of the damn rainbow. We're all people, and we all need to stick together if we're going to survive."

"Try tellin' that to the Governor," Merle harped, "he didn't get the memo you sent out 'bout the rose-tinted goggles."

Laurel shrugged her shoulders at him- he noticed the price tag hanging out the back of that little khaki tank top she was wearing, swinging from side to side as she moved about the kitchenette.

"Get over here," Merle ordered softly, "damn tag hangin' outta that vest is drivin' me crazy."

_"You _get over _here,_" Laurel told him as she stirred the oats, fork still stuck in the can of corn; he closed the distance and shook his hand through her hair, signalling for her to hold it up. She did so and Merle grabbed the loop of the tag.

"Don't cut my head off, scissor hands," Laurel chimed teasingly, arching her neck a little straighter.

"I'll try my best," Merle replied, slicing quickly through the thin plastic with the blade attached to his arm. The force of the action jolted Laurel back a bit and she made a fake choking sound, the fabric of the vest going taut against her neck. Merle's knuckles lingered on the place where her spine began to widen, and he could smell that lingering fragrance from her hair again, of lemon and something more sickly sweet.

"So…" Axel said a little awkwardly, "we got any plans for today? Anythin' we gotta be getting' on with?"

"Don't think so," Laurel chimed, moving forwards from Merle's hand, "Rick didn't say anything earlier. We've still gotta move the bullets and divvy out the guns, and they're gonna park up the cars in the right places while they're out there, I think- apart from that, I think we've got a pretty chill day ahead of us."

"Unless Patches decides to show up," Merle added.

"We'll have to deal with that as it happens," Axel said. "Seems unlikely he'll show up in the middle of the day, anyway. Cover of darkness and all that, you follow me?"

Slowly the rest of the group began to file in- Beth and Maggie at first, with Hershel and Glenn behind them. Michonne, Carol, Daryl and Rick had remained out on watch; Carl had stayed with his father.

"So," Merle said to Axel eventually, when all the others had dispersed into the main cell block, "How long has it been?"

Axel caught his meaning immediately and shook his head.

"Six, going on seven years," Axel answered.

"Shit, man," Merle replied. "You must have been beatin' the meat twenty-three hours a day to get through that and still live to this day."

"Hell, I've almost forgot what a naked woman looks like," Axel told him. "How about you? Must have been a while, right? ...The women ain't exactly swarming the streets out there- well, not the living ones, anyway."

Merle thought briefly of Woodbury- there had been a couple there, one named Megan, who'd been a stoner before all the shit went down and had shared the last of her stash with him, and another called... Heck, he couldn't remember the name of the other one. Maybe it began with a K? ...Kelly, Karrie? To hell if he could remember.

"There was a couple of 'em back in the town I was in," he told Axel briefly.

"You lucky bastard."

Merle nodded, smirking to himself a little. "Both of 'em were decent-lookin'- but skinny little bitches, no tits at all. Wasn't nothing to grab on to, y'know? Not that I can do all the grabbin' as I used to, not with the one hand n' all," Merle laughed, nudging Axel with the prosthetic guard on his forearm. "And y'know what they say- beggars can't be choosers. I was grateful to both them women, regardless of 'em lackin' in the jug department."

"Sounds to me like you were spoilt for choice," Axel laughed, rubbing his fingers over the ends of his mustache.

"Yeah," Merle smirked. "Pickin's are a lot slimmer 'round here, I suppose. You got yer eye on Carol, I see."

"I got my eye on anythin' with a heart beat," Axel jested. "I thought Carol was lesbian," Axel mused, "y'know, with the hair and all- t'ill she started having a benny at me over talking with Beth. Figured she might be jealous. Thought I was in there- t'ill your pretty-boy brother came back. How'd a guy stand a chance up against that? Now I'm pretty damn sure your bro's claimed that territory, you follow me?" Axel mused. Merle nodded in agreement, secretly chuffed that Daryl had, perhaps not to his own knowledge, managed to establish himself as the alpha where that mousy woman was concerned. Maybe now he'd boss up and work enough testosterone through his veins to take her out for a spin. Hell, if she'd been his woman, she'd be rolling around in a fucking wheelchair after having five days with nothing to do except set up barriers and load guns.

"Sweet things, ain't they?" Axel interrupted Merle's thoughts as he looked over at Beth and Laurel, nodding towards the two girls. "Hearts of gold, the both of 'em."

"Yeah," Merle rumbled, watching Laurel's precocious figure as she moved about the other side of the cell block, trying in vain to make the new baby's make-shift cot stand upright as Beth held the child. The thing caved in again, falling at Laurel's feet, and she waved her arms at it in frustration, talking to the construct in an annoyed voice as though the thing might actually understand a word she was saying. Merle found himself smiling at her.

"Carol made it pretty clear she'd blend my balls if I so much as looked funny at either of 'em. She's tetchy about those two."

"Yeah, she's got some Joan of Arc thing goin' on there. Sees herself as everyone's ma, I reckon- even Daryl, and she's head over heels where my baby brother's concerned- hell knows how he managed that. On top of that thinks she's some kind of martyr for abused women the world around."

"Abused?" Axel asked, surprised.

"Her man used to beat seven bells outta her, apparently," Merle explained. "Don't surprise me- I didn't know him long, but a blind man coulda seen he was a piece of shit. She's better off havin' him dead... Before she was all wimpy, scared of her own damn shadow and all. Look at her now- she'd have both our asses hung up on a pike."

"I'd have tried my luck with that one," Axel added, gesturing to Laurel as she struggled to hold the first panel of the cresh upright with her foot, "if I wasn't so scared of what'd happen to my balls if I tried."

"My balls and I are gonna risk it," Merle mused, snagging his blade on the hilt of the chair.

"...You sayin' you got your eye on Laurel?"

"Maybe I do," Merle said. "Maybe I got both eyes on her."

"...Well, she's real cute," Axel acknowledged.

"What is it? You sayin' I'm too old?"

_Course you're too damn old, Dixon, _Merle thought to himself. _But that ain't stopped ya before, has it?_

"Hell no man, I mean, no judgments- like I said, I'd have done the same if It wasn't for Carol at my neck. Just- didn't think the whole blonde-hair, blue-eyed deal would be your thing. Thought you'd like 'em a little more... wild, y'know? Little more bad girl than good girl kinda thing."

"That's what I thought, too," Merle shrugged. Felt weird, talking like this, but like Axel said- he'd do the same. "She ain't my usual, but I like her. She's fine to look at, and she's... I dunno. Somethin' about her."

"Just uh- make sure your brother's gal doesn't get wind of it, you follow me?"

"She won't," Merle slurred, though he knew already that Carol had already sussed what game he was playing that day in the courtyard; heck, she'd given him enough of a talking to make her point clear, even if he had no intention of taking on board a word she'd said to him.

"Well, there's you sorted. I, on the other hand, ain't got much chance in hell when it comes to women no more," Axel sighed. "Maggie's with Glenn, Daryl's in with Carol, and those two blondie's are off limits unless I wanna be castrated, which I don't much fancy, If I'm honest with ya."

"...There's always Michonne," Merle suggested. Axel looked at him, a little uncertainly. He'd forgotten all about her.

"Yeah, but... well, she's a little exotic, you follow me?"

"Caucasian's only a light switch away," Merle smirked, "'sides, may as well go for the full set- new experiences n'all."

"You ever swung that way?" Axel asked, "gone for the darker sort, I mean?"

"No, man," Merle told him, "they ain't even palyin' in our court- we're out here playin' baseball and there kind are over the other side runnin' a game of basket... I ain't never been a chocolate chaser, but... hell, she could get it. I mean, y'know, If she was askin' for it."

"I s'pose," Axel acknowledged, considering the possibility. "I mean, I always thought I'd go for oriental maybe, but I guess a shade darker ain't too much of a jump across the pond."

"There ya go," Merle smirked, smacking Axel on the back. "You'll be gettin' some before the week is out."

"Breakfast should be done," Laurel called, hopping back into the mess hall. She sauntered over to the boiling oats, gave them a stirr and poured a ladel full of caster sugar into the mix.

"Liven things up a bit," she said to Beth as her friend walked up beside her. The two began to dish out the food and carry it over to the sitting area.

"...what's a woman of her colour like?" Axel asked Merle quietley after a long moment, reffering again to Michonne. "I mean..."

"Ah Jesus, man, I dunno. Same as ours, I guess."

"You suggestin' I should go out there, pick her some flowers?"

"Don't think she's the flower sort," Merle smirked. "'Sides, I ain't never brought a woman flowers in my life, but I've sure as hell made a good few happy- women don't really like none of that luvvy-duvvy flowers and chocolates bullshit, they just pretend to. What they really want is a good, solid fuck and a roof over their heads."

Merle pointed up to the ceiling of the cell block and gestured to Axel.

"You've already secured one of the criteria. You can't go wrong, my man."

"Are you two coming?" Laurel called from the other room, having carried the last of the food through; Merle stood, tapped Axel on the back and headed for the door.

"Yeah, we're coming, Cher."

**AN: Axel and Michonne?!**

**I'D SHIP IT.**

**SHIPPIN' LIKE FEDEX.**

**Bit of a playful chapter here, to recover from the events of the previous day! I think we all needed it ;D**

**Hope you liked this chapter guys- please leave a review if you did! :D**


	26. Chapter 26: Blackbird

**_AN: A musical chapter! If you're up for it, open up another tab of Youtube and search this - _**_watch?v=BMVTY-2MO5Q_**_ ('_**

_The Coasters Poison Ivy Cover... sorry about the guitar lol ;)',_ by LauraM0822)

**_When you see the asterisk in the chapter (*) start the song, and enjoy!_  
**

** Chapter Twenty-Seven:**

**Blackbird**

"Atanasio," Laurel read from the nameology book Carl had found hidden in the shelves of the library, "It means,_ 'never dying'_." She looked up to the others with an uncertain grimace, and Beth shook her head.

"Too long."

"How about... Adolpho?" Laurel suggested as she read down the page, "…means_ 'noble wolf.'_"

"Too Hitler," someone pointed out, and the name was quickly shunted. The group had gathered, all but Michonne and Rick who were still stationed on watch covering the perimeter, to christen the child with a name. The group had decided, at least to honor the child's lost parents, that it would do well to choose a Hispanic name; so Laurel read from only the latter pages of the book, headed_ 'Names of Mexican Origin'_.

"We need something that goes nice with Judy," Beth advised, "they're going to be growing up together, after all."

"You're thinkin' way ahead," Merle mused, raising an eyebrow, "something that goes well with Judy... how's about Punch?"

"Augusto," Laurel continued down the list, ignoring Merle's suggestion, "that means_ 'valiant; majestic'_. We could cut it down, shorten it to… uh... Augie?"

The group considered for a moment or two, but it was quickly disregarded as a choice.

"Anything's better than just 'the other baby'," Daryl pointed out, watching the child lying on his back as Beth held out a colorful container for him. His chubby hands reached out for the plastic as Beth shook it, and he babbled loudly, taking the makeshift toy from her and bringing it up to his mouth. At first he'd been unsettled by the huge amount of people, but now he had begun to relax; though he'd wailed for his mother in the night, inconsolable to anyone's touch, he seemed slightly more settled.

"Alejandro," Laurel read, "Alketti... Alvarez," she recited hopefully, "means _'Noble guardian'_… we could shorten it, to… uh... Alvi. That would be nice."

"Alvi…" Carol tested the name on her tongue, and it seemed to fit well. "That could work."

"I kinda like it," Daryl agreed after a few moments, bending down beside Beth and holding a finger out to the child. The baby reached one hand out to Daryl's face and grabbed for his rough lips with his stubby fingers; Daryl opened his mouth a little, smiling, and the baby gurgled back, dark eyes fixed on Daryl's lips as he poked his teeth. Daryl pretended to bite his fingers and the child babbled happily.

"How about that, little man?" Daryl cooed, lifting the baby a little as he dropped his plastic toy, more interested by Daryl's stubbled cheeks, "You think Alvi's a good name?" The baby gurgled a bubble of laughter almost in agreement, and Daryl chuckled.

"I think we have a winner," Maggie smiled.

"Alvi it is," Glenn concluded, watching the happy child. Carol looked at Daryl as he pulled faces at the newly christened baby, and felt her heart dance a little within her.

"That was surprisingly easy," Laurel chimed, smiling as baby Alvi found a thread of Daryl's hair and pulled down on it inquisitively, causing Daryl to stoop a little lower to accommodate him, "we didn't even get past the first page of names."

"Yeah, great," Merle drawled with a little sarcasm, "hows about we crack open a couple of those brewskies we brought back from that store to celebrate, huh?"

"They're gon' be warm," Daryl told him with a slight smirk, and Merle stood.

"Way ahead of ya, little brother," Merle riled, walking up to the back door which lead down into the tombs- he cracked it open by the twist lock and walked a little up the catwalk.

"Where ya goin'?" Daryl asked his brother as he dissapeared into the darkness.

"Just a sec," Merle called out, a clanking coming from the corridor he'd taken himself down. Laurel strained her neck to try and see him, and as his footsteps returned back up the dark corridor, she saw that he had two boxes of beer under his arms.

"Here we go," Merle grinned, "beautiful- these babies are cold as a well diggers' ass. Lets pop some tops and have some fun." He cutoff the cardboard and began handing around the beer, cooled by the darkness and ventilation of the tombs. "Daryl, get these things open," Merle instructed, holding half out to his little brother; Daryl took the beers and started cracking them open on the hinge between the cell block and the mess hall, handing them around the circle; Hershel shook his head as the alcohol passed around his end, giving Beth a sharp look.

"C'mon, girls n' boys," Merle laughed, "drink up, we deserve this after the last few days we've been through."  
"Where's mine?" Carl asked, and Merle laughed, flicking the boy on the nose.

"Slow down there, sunshine," he told the kid, "you got a good few years to go 'fore you can get yourself a taste of the sweet stuff."

Carl looked affronted; Carol turned to him.

"It's up to your father, Carl," she told the child, "and I don't think he'd like it, do you?"

Carl shrugged and grabbed his rifle off the Jacobean desk. "I'm goin' out," the boy glutted, and the others watched him go.

"He'll be alright," Carol soothed eventually.

"Kid's too big for his cowboy boots," Merle shrugged.

"Maggie scoffed. "Well maybe if you didn't provoke him like that-"

"Look, Truly Scrumptious, I get that you don't like me very much-"

"Whatever gave you that impression?" She said sarcastically, and Merle sucked his teeth at her.

"Don't give me lip, girl."

Glenn snapped his head round at the man.

"Sit down, Jackie Chan," Merle drawled dismissively, "don't look at me like you're gonna say shit, cuz we all know you ain't got the balls-"

"That's enough," Hershel demanded. "All three of you need to stop this, right now."

Despite the exchanged looks of discontent, none of them said another word; it seemed Hershel's presence demanded some innate respect which none of them were willing to cross, not even Merle. Swayed by the alcohol and not wanting to hear any more arguing, Hershel hobbled out of the cell block, grabbing a helmet and vest as he went, and made his way out to his perch outside.

"Why don't you sing us something, Beth?" Carol suggested, and Beth agreed, desperate to thin out the tense air; everyone sat, and she asked for any requests. They worked around and around the group, throwing out suggestions until they found a song the girl knew the words to. Slowly she began to sing the words, awkwardly at first and self-conscious of the lack of instrumental backing. Sensing her discomfort, Carol and Laurel joined in- their grasp of the words patchy, but well-intentioned. As they neared the end of the song, the meaning of the lyrics became clearer, and the three began to giggle.

_"A common cold'll fool you,_  
_And whooping cough'll cool you,_  
_But poison ivy's love will make you itch..."_

Merle rolled his eyes and nudged Daryl, who was repressing a smile.

_"You're gonna need an ocean,_

_ of calamine lotion,_

_You'll be scratching like a hound,_

_The minute she starts to mess around."_

The group gave a mutual laugh, the awkward tension flattened for a moment, stricken by the connotations in the song and what they implied.

In the eventual silence, Beth reached out for her own beverage.

"You're underage," Maggie told her sister quickly, taking Beth's drink from her hands and handing it over to Glenn. The sticky discomfort returned in part, and silence trickled back in.

"Ah, c'mon spoilsport, that don't matter no more," Axel smiled, trying to lighten the mood and handing Beth over another bottle.

"No thanks," Beth smiled sheepishly, but Axel persisted.

"Come now, ain't much fun left in life no more! May as well enjoy what we've got while we've still got it-"

"She said no," Maggie told him sharply, and Axel lowered the bottle with the other hand raised in a signal of apology.

"How 'bout you, Cher?" Merle smirked, deflating a little and handing Laurel hers personally, "you followin' the laws of old or ya gonna join the party?"

Laurel shrugged, taking the beer and raising her arms. "Party up in here," she jested.

"I'll drink to that," Merle laughed, chinking his bottle against her own. "Cheers."

Laurel smiled, and took a sip of the brown alcohol.

"Ugh," she gurned, swallowing back the bitter liquid.

"Wha'da ya mean,_ 'ugh?'_" Merle cried, swigging back his own with a glutenous fervor, "this stuff's liquid gold,"

"Redneck wine," muttered Glenn under his breath.

"What you just call us?" Daryl quipped from the quiet of his seat, and Glenn looked up quickly.

"_'Us?'_" Glenn retorted in a slow, hushed voice, as though he didn't want the others to hear, "you two a package deal now?"

"Yeah, we are- always have been. We're the same blood, and whatever you're callin' Merle you're callin' _me,_" Daryl said hotly, leaning forward a little on his perch.

"Daryl," Maggie interrupted, "let's not start this-"

"No," Daryl snapped, "no, i'm sick of you people actin' like he's some sort of dog we dragged in off the streets! He's my brother, God damn it-!"

"He's a hothead!" Glenn interrupted, feeling himself getting wound up, "that runs in the family, by the looks of it-"

"Whoa, whoa, hold up," Merle interrupted, turning to Glenn with his arms outstretched, "In can take all the crap you wanna throw my way- hell, I know you got your reasons for that shit-slinging- but you don't just get to come up here and start on my baby brother like that, y'hear?"

"You're a danger to us all," Glenn said through hissing teeth to Merle, moving closer to him. "Everyone here, including Daryl and yourself; you're erratic and you're wild and you're_ fucking crazy_. You should have stayed in Woodbury, back where you-"

Merle grabbed Glenn up by the throat and lifted him into the air- the entire assembly raised with him, shouting and clawing at Merle to put him down. Daryl and Axel grappled with Merle's large form, and the group struggled a moment more until a forced gunshot slammed its way through the room- everyone turned to see Beth, stood beside the four-seater table, a handgun raised in her fist and a look on her face like she was sick of the entire world. A short shower of plaster fell from the busted ceiling onto her white hair, and she brushed it away quickly. Merle dropped Glenn by his neck, causing him to stumble back into Maggie and Carol; the two women fussed about him, and Glenn shrugged them off, turning and marching out of the door to the courtyard.

"What the _hell_ is happening?!" Hershel cursed, hopping back through the doors at the same time Glenn departed; he saw his daughter holding the gun high, the babies screaming in their makeshift cots and the scowl upon Merle Dixon's face, and knew immediately that his earlier decree had not been enough to curb the tension rising between Glenn and Daryl's brother.

Merle's arm was still raised, hovering where Glenn's neck had been gripped only moments before; Laurel cautiously lifted her hand up to his arm and began to gently pull it down to his side. He looked over at her, her grey eyes wide, and let his arm fall.

**~oOo~**

The group slowly dispersed over the course of the next hour- Daryl and Carl went out to support Michonne and Rick on watch, Axel and Hershel dissapeared to the end cells, huddled over scripture with heavy eyes; Glenn and Maggie were no where to be found, and Rick, after hearing of the earlier commotion with a disappointed frown, had gone to sleep; for what seemed to the others to be the first time in weeks. Beth and Carol dissapeared to the library, and Merle sat on his own against the mess hall bench, picking at the short nails of his hand with his bayonet's tip.

Laurel, sat down beside the now sleeping babies, eventually calmed from the shock of the gunfire Beth had delivered, picked up the nameology book from the floor and made her way out of the cell to where Merle sat. He winked at her as she sat on the bench opposite him, holding out the open book in front of her. She pulled a face at him, trying to keep the atmosphere light and any conversation away from what had happened previously. He watched her stand and disappear to one of the duffle bags filled with food; there, of all things, she pulled out a squeezey lemon, sat back on the bench, bit it open and squeezed some out onto her hand, smoothing the mixture over the roots of her hair.

"What in the hell are ya doin', sweetheart?" he asked her eventually, and Laurel explained,

"It'll make my hair go blonder... thought I'd sit out on watch, absorb the sun a little. Catch some rays, bleach the locks."

"Have fun with that," Merle mused-he watched as she began flicking absent mindedly through the thick pages of the old nameology book, whistling to herself as she went.

"_'Blackbird,'_" Laurel read after a while, stretching out from her position.

"...What ya talkin' about?" Merle asked her a few moments later, looking down inquisitively from his seat on the front bench.

"Merle," she explained, pointing at the words in the book of names, "that's what Merle means."

The oldest Dixon raised his eyebrows, seemingly disinterested. Hadn't known that before. "Well, you learn something new every day."

After a few deep minutes sharpening away at the wick of his blade, Merle questioned,

"_Blackbird?!"_

He sounded affronted. Laurel looked up at him with a wry smile- she'd expected as much."That's a bit shit, isn't it?" Merle continued, looking up to the left with a frown,"Not exactly fear-inspiring- Blackbird fucking Dixon."

"There are worst animals to be named after," Laurel reasoned eventually, "you could have been... I dunno... Porcupine Dixon. That'd kinda suck."

Merle smirked, and added,

"Squirrel Dixon."

"...Duck-billed Platypus Dixon."

The two of them laughed, their suggestions becoming more and more outlandish.

"It's a girls name, too," Laurel teased with a smirk, and Merle smacked her arm.

"It ain't a girls name," he snapped playfully, hitting her again for emphasis.

"Ow-! ...It is, though," Laurel laughed, "Look; it says,_ 'Gender: feminine and masculine. A English/French name, derived from the Norse surname.'"_

"Give me that," Merle demanded, snatching the book from her with a quick smirk and pinning it down beneath his hand; sure enough, what she'd said was true.

"Well, I'll be damned," Merle snorted, shaking his head at the paper. "What's yours mean, then?"

He began flicking through to the 'L' section, but Laurel interrupted, "I already know what mine is; it means from the laurel tree, victory garland, crown of leaves, etcetera, etxetera."

"Well, that's a bit borin', ain't it, doll."

"Not as boring as 'Blackbird,'" she teased him, and he smacked her arm again, causing the book to snap shut. Laurel picked it up and smacked him back with it playfully.

Daryl appeared in the doorway of the cell block.

"Merle," he said quickly, with a certain urgency in his gritty voice, "come on out here, now. You're gonna need to see this..."

**AN: Hey guys, hope you liked this chapter! sorry it's so not too long D:**

**Just be aware, bros, my pen name's now 'Wizadora123' rather than the previous numbers, just because it's easier for me to remember ;D**


	27. Chapter 27: The Visitor

**AN: a musical chapter! I suggest you open up this - **watch?v=_l1Vhu082Wk** in a youtube tab before you start on this chapter, and then look out for the asterisk (*); When you see the little star, play the video and enjoy! :D **

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: **

**The Visitor**

"Holy shit," Merle breathed as he stepped out into the courtyard with his brother, Axel and Rick, rifle hitched up on his shoulder. Daryl had his cross-bow hoisted and ready, loaded with a red-feathered bolt and pointing at the woman who was emerging through the last of the walkers on the outer fence.

"Should I go and help her?" Glenn asked, looking out to where the woman stood- it was Andrea, they had realized. She was fiddling with the internal wiring of their fence, somehow managing to keep the repugnant Walkers at bay.

"No," Rick galled, having just been woken up by Daryl to come and see to what was happening; "let her make her own way up. If she lives that long, maybe we'll talk."

"But Rick... It's Andrea."

"Not any more," Rick uttered coldly, remembering all the things he had learnt about that woman over only the last few days, from Merle and Michonne.

Andrea got the door open swiftly- it looked for a moment as though a Walker might slip through after her, but somehow calm was maintained.

"Well I ain't bein' funny, but she's messin' up all our hard work, whoever she is," Axel spouted, extending an arm out to where the woman had appeared. She swung herself inside and quickly re-locked the flimsy gates with the orange pipe wire. With sudden urgency, Andrea began swinging her arms wildly at the others, running towards them in an attempt to make her presence known. Rick took the handgun from his holster, unlatched the safety and pointed the barrel up against the fence.

"Rick!" Andrea cried out, "It's me!"

"That's close enough," Rick warned her as she came up against the inner gate- she saw the group behind it, Glenn, Daryl, Carl, Merle, and another man she didn't recognise; all five of them armed up and with riot vests tied about their shoulders.

"Aren't you going to let me in?" Andrea asked in an exasperated fashion.

"No, I think you should stay out there," Rick demanded, moving closer to the gates with his gun raised. "Are you alone?"

"…What-?"

"Are you alone?!"

"Yes!"

Rick looked left and right, then over to Glenn, who said,

"We can't stay out here. It's too much of a risk, they could be ready to shoot at us any second."

"There's no-one else here!" Andrea cried in outrage, "I don't get this, I left Atlanta with you people and suddenly I'm the enemy?!"

"Yeah, well we all know you been sleepin' with the real one," Daryl muttered under his breath, watching the left fence carefully.

"Never trust anythin' that bleeds for a week and doesn't die," Merle called up to the others loudly from over his shoulder. "She can't come in here, we'd be riskin' all our asses- tell her to fuck off home back to her boyfriend and her Sylvanian Families bullshit town."

"I have a name, you know," Andrea shouted over at him, and Merle gave her a quick glance.

"I'd use it, but there's kiddies about," Merle sneered at her, nodding to Carl.

"You're gonna listen to him, over me?!" Andrea said aghast to Rick, then looked to Glenn, "after what he did to you and Maggie?!"

Glenn looked to Rick for direction- Rick seemed to struggle a moment, and looked at Daryl. Daryl hissed through his teeth, but seemed as uncertain as the others were. Eventually, Rick bowed his head and ordered, "open up the gate."

**~oOo~**

"Get in," Rick demanded, pushing Andrea up inside the mess hall; the others had gathered there silently, all of them uncertain in what was happening; as Andrea moved through the doors, Carol approached her and the two women shared a long, heartfelt embrace.

Andrea looked out over Carol's warm shoulder; she saw for the first time Hershel's amputated state and gave a little gasp.

"Hershel... my God…" The woman looked around the cell block in utter amazement, drinking in all that was around her.

"I can't believe this," Andrea breathed, "where's Shane? …Lori?"

Rick shook his head, and Andrea gave a pained exhale. He bowed his neck, expression tight.

"She had a girl," Hershel explained, directing Andrea to the corner of the room- there she saw Axel and Laurel, their two unfamiliar faces sat together in the corner holding a baby each.

"Lori didn't survive," Hershel went on.

"Neither did T-dog," Maggie said quickly, a sadness washing over her.

Andrea seemed unable to believe it. "I…I'm so sorry…" Her eyes fell on the young boy in the Sherriff's hat, and her heart gave out. "Carl, I…"

Carl stared coldly at her; he had changed as much as she had. He didn't need her sympathy, and he sure as hell didn't want it, either. Andrea looked back to Axel and Laurel, sat in the corner with the child.

"Is he yours?" She asked Laurel, noting the shade of the child's skin and realizing her initial assumption couldn't have been right. Laurel shook her head quickly, stroking a hand over Alvi's soft hair, and gave Andrea a little smile. "We found him."

"And you are-?"

"That doesn't matter," Rick interrupted quickly, moving towards Andrea. "Why are you here?"

"To sort this out," Andrea offered weakly; Rick didn't look convinced.

"You all live here? In the cell block? Can go in-?"

Rick squared up to her face, blocking her path threateningly.

"…I'm not an enemy, Rick-"

"We had that feel in the courtyard, 'till your boyfriend tore down our fence with a truck and shot us all up."

"He said you shot first-"

"Yeah, well he's lyin'."

"I- I didn't even know you were in Woodbury until after the shoot out- I came as soon as I could! I don't get this-"

Glenn stepped up then. "He almost killed Michonne. He would of killed us-"

"With his finger on the trigger!" Andrea spat, stabbing a finger in Merle's direction. "Isn't he the one who kidnapped you, who beat you?!" Merle noticed Laurel's eyes on him briefly and avoided maintaining contact with her own.

" Look, I- I can't explain what Phillip has done, but we have to work this out-!"

"We're gonna kill him," Rick snorted with an air of finality, stepping up to Andrea's side. The room tensed, absorbing the new found clarity that had come with Rick's words. There it was, set out before them; some swallowed it easier than others, but every single person knew it had to be done.

_We're going to kill the Governor._

"There is room at Woodbury for all of you," Andrea tried hopelessly, and Merle gave a dark chuckle from his position atop the stairs.

"Next time you see 'Phillip'," Daryl mocked, leaning closer to Andrea from his position atop the first wreck table, "you tell him I'mma take his other eye."

"We've taken too much shit for too long," Glenn agreed, "if he wants a war, he's got one."

"You wanna make this right," Rick told her firmly, moving close to her face again, "you get us inside."

Andrea refused, and Rick began to walk away. The others stared at each other as the cell block door creaked wide behind him, and silence fell over the prison for a lingering second.

"Then we got nothing to talk about. We're done," came Rick's voice sharply, echoing through the cold grey hall.

"...We're done."

**~oOo~**

"She was with us back at our farm," Beth explained to Laurel, drifting back and forth about the small room like a vagabond, "but when we got overrun we lost her- guessed she had died on the farm, but..."

"So what has she got to do with Woodbury?" Laurel asked inquisitively, drawing her knees up in a whisper. The two girls had slipped outside and stationed themselves on watch, so that they might discuss what was going on.

"They found her, the Governor and... Merle."

Laurel nodded quickly- she'd almost forgotten that Merle had been part of that group. She listened intently as Beth continued to explain.

**~oOo~**

Can't trust her, man," Daryl drawled uneasily, having followed after Rick with Merle, Glenn and Hershel. "She's got a foot in both camps- we knew her back on the farm, but now... she could be anyone now. And she's snugglin' up at night with the guy who's tryin' to kill all our asses."

"Can't trust the bitch," Merle agreed. "She might be alright to look at, but behind that pretty face… "

"Maybe we should ask the others," Daryl suggested. "See if they think It's worth a shot- put it to a vote."

"This ain't time to play democracy," Merle inputted, "Besides, they're all women 'cept Axel- the way they think changes with where the moon is in the sky. It's gotta be us, and Its gotta be now." Daryl lifted his hand to shield his face from the outright misogyny in his brother's contribution.

"I call bullshit," Merle said. "Ain't nothin' good gonna come out of meetin' up with old Cyclops."

"But if there's a chance," Hershel reasoned desperately, "if there's a chance we could end all of this... live out here peacefully, without having to worry about an army landing on our doorstep-"

"There ain't no chance," Merle coughed, "you've seen what this guy's like. I've seen it first hand. You know the stories from your mute friend- heads in aquariums, little zombie girls locked in cupboards. There ain't no chance in hell there's gonna be any reasonin' with anybody."

"We can't just accept that," Hershel cried, "there's got to be something we can do- even if we only talk it out, at least we've tried to make it right. We all have people here that we care about- maybe this is the answer, the way we keep them safe. Wouldn't you do anything to keep them safe?"

Merle thought of Daryl; _yes, _he reasoned. He would do anything he could to watch out for him, to keep him alive as long as possible. He thought of Laurel, and he thought yes again. Hadn't he already decided he'd do anything for those two, in his head? Be it take out a herd of Walkers single-handedly or shoot 'em in the back of their skulls to save them from what horrors humans bring- If all that needed to be done was simple chin-wagging, if there was even a glimmer of hope that they could be safe, surely it was worth it. Just a try, to see if they could settle it out.

But still- it was a risk. A big risk at that.

"How'd we know he wouldn't turn up with heavy artillery and mow our asses down?" Merle asked.

"We take just as much," Glenn suggested, "they won't make a move if they know we're just as set as them."

"They'd take us out for our guns," Daryl intruded, "then they'd come here and take out everyone else."

"Yep," Merle added, "bail on us, wait till our strongest are out there trying to make peace and hit the prison when it's just the women and the kids. You know what'd happen then, don'tcha? You willin' to risk that?"

"That's why we wouldn't all go," Rick tried, "It'll be just the two of us, just me and him. That's what we'll agree to- you'll all stay here and that way-"

"I ain't leavin' you out there, man!" Daryl told Rick, "out on your own with that psycho bastard, are you serious?"

"Fine," Rick admonished. "Just us, then- you all stay."

"You think imma let you drag my baby brother out into the woods to meet up with that psycho?!" Merle scoffed at Rick.

"I ain't bein' dragged," Daryl scolded, "I'm goin with him, bro, that's all there is to it."

"Then I'm comin' too," Merle intruded with a stubborn valor.

"No," Rick instructed, "no way. You have a problem with keepin' your trap shut, and you and this Governor ain't exactly sittin' pretty as it is, are ya?"

"You'd get us all shot before we so much as sat down," Daryl drawled.

"Besides," Rick added before Merle could retort, "like you said- they might hit back on us. We need good fighters out here to protect this place if everything goes to shit."

Uncertainly, Merle nodded his head. The others mimicked his action, and an agreement seemed to have been achieved between them.

"Alright," Rick breathed slowly. "Let's end this."

**~oOo~**

Outside in the courtyard, Michonne stared hard at Andrea.

"You poisoned them," Andrea said, shaking her head at the other woman.

"I just told them the truth," Michonne guffawed, stroking her blade.

"I didn't choose him over you," Andrea hurled at her, "I wanted a_ life._"

"He sent Merle to kill me," Michonne told her. "Would have sent him to kill you, too, if you'd come with me. But you didn't, did you? You chose a warm bed over a friend… that's why I went back to Woodbury, exposed him for what he is." Michonne paused, staring hard at Andrea, the woman who had once been her best friend, the only person she had truly cared about since she's lost Mike and her girls.

"I knew that it would hurt you," she told her blankly,her virile disposition never faltering. Andrea turned her heel and walked back inside the cell block.

"Go to hell, Michonne."

**~oOo~**

"We'll meet with the Governor," Rick told Andrea, hands on his hips, "but there's conditions; neutral ground-"

"The farming Silos," Daryl exclaimed, and Andrea nodded, taking it in.

"He just brings one or two of his boys- no funny shit. First sign of trouble and we're out, y'hear?"

"I'll talk to him," Andrea agreed. Rick and the rest of the group nodded, and that seemed to be the cue for Andrea to depart.

"Thanks," she said a few minutes later, climbing in the car that the group had bequeathed her. "Can you spare it?" she asked, as Rick handed her a loaded hand gun through the open window of the vehicle.

" Yeah."

"Well… take care." Andrea stuck the key in the ignition and Rick put his hand back against the frame. Daryl and Merle jumped in the back of the vehicle, ready to help her open up the outer gate.

"Andrea," Rick said shortly, "...be careful."

The woman nodded slowly, and took hold of the wheel. "You, too."

"Go!" Glenn called as he hauled open the gate, and Andrea passed quickly through it. At the futhest gate, Daryl and Merle hopped out.

"'Till next time, sugar tits," Merle coughed, swinging off the truck's side and begining to untie the cords holding the fence, undoing the gate just enough to let the truck pass; once she had driven through, Merle began re-wiring the thing as Daryl despatched the two walkers who had slipped inside; when they were done, the pair began walking back to the prison.

"So what'ya think, baby brother?" Merle questioned.

"...I dunno," Daryl breathed. "I want it to work, but..."

"...Smells like bullshit, right?" Merle nodded understandingly, and Daryl agreed. Uneasily, the two brothers continued their trek back to the prison.

**(*)**

As Daryl and Merle returned inside, it was to the sound of Beth's light voice, singing a sweet, delicate song.

_"...__So she left Monte Rio, son,_

_Just like a bullet leaves a gun..."_

"Tom Waits," Merle noted, and Daryl shrugged.

"Uncle Jesse's favorite," he acknowledged, leaving Merle by the door and moving over to where Rick and Hershel stood.

Merle looked over to Laurel; she was smiling, lay out on the floor next to Carol and Beth, trimming the ends of her blonde hair by the lamplight. The scissors in her hand snipped gently, and Alvi, sat in Axel's arms opposite her, kept his large dark eyes on the glints of silver as the sheaths moved back and forth over the whisps of white hair.

_"...Well, he gave her a dime-store watch_

_And a ring made from a spoon,_

_Everyone's looking for someone to blame,_

_If you share my bed, you share my name..."_

"Some reunion, huh?" Daryl breathed down his nose hotly. Hershel and Rick stood beside him, listening as Beth sang drowsily in her sweet tones.

"She's in a jam," Rick said carefully, holding baby Judith tightly in his arms.

"We all are," Hershel agreed. "Andrea's persuasive… this fella's armed to the teeth, bent on destruction."

"So what do you want to do?" Daryl asked.

"We match it," Rick informed, "…I'm going on a run. More weapons."

"I'll head out tomorrow," Daryl offered quickly.

"No," Rick told him, "no, you stay here. Keep an eye on your brother… he causes any more problems, it's on you."

Daryl nodded, looking over at his brother, who was stood with his back up against the far wall, eyes closed. "I got him."

Rick returned the gesture and drawled, "I'll take Michonne."

"…You sure that's a good idea?"

"Well, I'll find out… and Carl, he's ready. You hold it down here."

"Got it."

_"When there's nothing left to keep you here, When you're falling behind in this big blue world,_

_You gotta hold on,_

_Hold on,_

_Gotta hold on,_

_Take my hand,_

_I'm standing right here,_

_Gotta hold on."_

**AN: Hurrah for Canon! Hurrah for musical chapters! If you've been using the musical accompaniment, please let me know in the reviews/pm so that I know whether or not to include it in later chapters when music is appropriate.**

**R&R, guys, and thanks so much for your support :D**


	28. Chapter 28: Intoxicated

**Chapter Twenty-Nine:**

**Intoxicated**

By the time Laurel awoke the next morning, Rick, Michonne and Carl had already left the prison, having gone back to Rick's hometown to collect more weapons.

"Morning, Laur," Maggie smiled as the girl descended the stairs; Laurel returned the greeting and lay out on one of the benches, still tired.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, noticing that she, Maggie, Carol and Glenn were the only people still in the cell block.

"Dad and Beth have took the babies out in the courtyard for a little while," Maggie explained, "just so they can get some sun; pretty sure the others are out on watch."

Laurel nodded. "We got any food?"

Glenn directed her to the mahogany desk, where whoever had cooked this morning had left a bowl of saturated cereal.

"It's a little soggy," Carol apologized, pouring drinks out into the prison-issued mugs, "sorry."

"No worries," Laurel chimed, shoveling the flakes onto one of the plastic spoons.

"Do me a favor, sweetheart," Carol asked once she'd finished the drinks, handing out two cups of coffee, "take these out to everyone- the black is Hershel's and the white is Beth's. There's some for the guys on watch too."

Laurel obliged, meeting the two outside, where they were sat under the protection of the caged stairwell, shielded by the sun. The babies sat happily in their arms, Alvi reaching out to Judith and trying to squeeze her tiny nose. Judith sneezed and Alvi laughed. Laurel booped Alvi on the nose and headed back inside, ready to retrieve the other cups.

**~oOo~**

"We're gonna have to find some more of these things," Axel breathed, exhaling a stream of smoke from one of the blunt cigarettes. "Reccon we could nab some off one of the bastards out there?"

Merle looked out at the sea of Walkers outside the gate and shrugged. "It'd be your ass," he smirked, lighting Daryl's cigarette for him.

There was a knock on the door- Merle looked around through the smoke to see Laurel stood behind the perspex. She opened up the door and pushed her way in, the three cups of steaming coffee resting on a makeshift tray- one of the riot shields- in her hands.

"Jesus Christ, it's like a fireplace in here," she breathed, choking through the smoke.

"Just how we like it," Merle intruded, taking another drag and throwing her a wink.

"Tea break," Laurel called with a shake of her head, placing the tray beside Axel on the warden's monitor and handing a cup to each of them.

"Thanks, dolly," Axel mused, taking a sip of the burning liquid.

"No milk?" Merle mused, placing the cup on the table beside him, cigarette held in his mouth.

"Yes, actually," Laurel scolded, "I brought milk and sugar." Merle smiled at that and Laurel gave him a disapproving look, reaching into the slouch pockets of her cardigan and pulling out a bright pink click-seal container, filled with caster sugar, and a tiny carton of long-life milk.

"How thoughtful," Merle smirked, stirring a little of the weak milk into his coffee.

"Wasn't my idea," Laurel told him, "Carol made it all, i'm just the delivery girl. She didn't know how you two liked yours-" she nodded to Merle and Axel- "so I just brought the lot up. Yours is already done, Daryl."

"Thanks."

"...Well, I'm getting out of here before my lungs start sticking- enjoy your cancer, gentlemen." Laurel saluted with her fingers and made for the door, tipping a little of the sugar from the pink container into her mouth as she went. "Is anyone checking the fences?" she turned and asked sharply, and the three shrugged. "I'll go around," Laurel offered, starting down the stairs.

"You go left," Daryl instructed, grabbing his coffee and crossbow and following after her, "I'll go right. We'll cover it quicker that way." Laurel nodded and waited for him on the top step.

"Woman knows how you like his morning cup of Joe," Merle mused at his brother, referring to Carol as he left the guard tower, "she's a keeper."

Daryl muttered something under his breath and carried on.

"And yours brings you coffee," Axel added once Daryl had closed the door and followed Laurel back down the steps, "another keeper."

**~oOo~**

Rick, Carl and Michonne returned late in the afternoon, armed with a car full of firearms, two travel cots for Judith and Alvi and a large orange hiking backpack, smeared with a little blood, all of which had been acquired from their visit to Rick's hometown.

"Where did you find this?" Carol asked in the courtyard, marveling at the survival kit inside, which included a multi-tool, two handguns and three packs of emergency rations; she remained wary of the blood.

"We found it," Michonne inputted quickly.

"At the side of the road," Rick agreed, "abandoned."

"Carol sighed. "Poor guy must have been eaten."

Carl looked at his father with an unsure expression. "We saw the guy," he recalled, "on the way there. We drove past him, don't you remember?"

Rick looked at his boy- he didn't want the others to know that. "Carl-"

There's no point lying to everyone about it," Carl told them all with blunt honesty, "that's the way it works- we left him because he wasn't one of us. It doesn't matter. We're safe, and now we've got more supplies."

The courtyard went quiet, all starring in horror at the bluntness of Carl's psyche. Rick looked horrified, so Carol quickly found a way of removing everyone else from the scene.

"Let's get these up on the balcony," she suggested.

"I'll go up on watch," Laurel offered, all to willing to leave the awkward scene; Rick lead Carl underneath the stairwell and the two began to talk in hushed voices. Laurel edged past them, having decided to go up in the main guard tower and relieve Axel and Merle of their watch duty; as she reached the high room, she realized Merle was missing.

"Where's Merle?" Laurel asked.

"Said he was going for a piss 'bout half hour ago," Axel replied, "must have drank a river, though, 'cuz he's not back yet."

Laurel furrowed her brow, and quipped with a frown, grabbing up the empty mugs the guys had abandoned, "I'll go find him. He's probably ripping up mattresses again... If he is, I'm gonna kick him in his bloody head. I'll come back up after, give you a hand."

Axel nodded, giving her the thumbs up as she went and pulling out the last of the cigarettes Merle had shared with him.

**~oOo~**

Merle sat in the passageway leading out to the tombs, where he had stored the beer the previous day; they had drank all his beer, so now he sat with two salvaged bottles of vodka, glugging down the first and just waiting to crack open the second- if he was still conscious by that point. The stuff was pretty much an ever-clear, and it was so damn strong he couldn't taste the burn anymore anyway. This shit was by no means his favorite, but better than nothing, so he figured. Two thirds of the bottle were already gone, and he had only been drinking for fifteen or so minutes; the stuff made his head spin, but he needed something to get off on, and since he couldn't find a high anywhere about the place, a face full of Russia's water would just have to do. Merle heard someone come in through the outer door, and decided he'd get a look; he stood and moved to the gated door, head buzzing a little, looking around it to see Laurel, just about to walk past him.

"Hey there, sugar," Merle smirked, spinning around the corner and sweeping at Laurel, causing her to step back against the wall.

"Jesus, Merle," she breathed, "you scared the life out of me."

"Sorry, darlin'," Merle smirked, putting his arm up by the wall.

"I was just coming to look for you," Laurel told him, "Axel said you dissapeared- where have you been?"

"Around," Merle answered ambiguously, leaning a little closer to Laurel.

"...What have you been drinking?" she asked him, smelling the alcohol on his breath, "you smell like a moonshine factory-"

"Just a little of the stuff we brought back," Merle drawled, "bit more hard-core- could only find vodka in the back of that truck up by the main gate so I thought I'd just drink it straight."

"Vodka?"

"That's right, congrats, y' ears are still workin'."

"You shouldn't be drinking in the middle of the day anyway, never mind that stuff- have you downed all that?!"

"Yep."

"You'll go blind drinking that much, give it here-"

"Nooo way," he drawled, holding it up out of her reach, "how 'bout it sweetheart, I got some more down here- we can drink away our blues together. C'mon," Merle drilled, grabbing Laurel's arm roughly and pulling her forwards a little.

"I'm alright, thanks," Laurel told him wearily, leaning away.

"Nah, c'mon, it'll be fun. Live a little. Could do with loosenin' you up a bit." Merle walked back up the corridor and Laurel followed, trying to ease him back in with the others- Carol would know what to do with him, or Rick maybe. She wasn't used to dealing with intoxicated people, and the idea of a drunk Merle was... difficult, to say the least.

"I think we need to get you back up there," she told him carefully, "you're a little drunk, don't you think?"

"No, I don't think," he slurred, resisting as she pulled his arm back. Merle grabbed his bottle of half-finished Vodka and necked down a little more.

"I think you've had enough," Laurel scolded, pulling the bottle from his grip.

"N'aw, don't be like that," Merle jilted, throwing an arm about Laurel's shoulder.

"Bye bye vodka," Laurel chided, pouring out the rest of the bottle- remnants of the acidic drink splashed about their feet.

"What'ya do that for… ya stupid bitch," Merle slurred slowly, reaching down for his spilled alcohol.

"Definitely had enough," Laurel muttered under her breath, brushing off the comment due to his drunken state. "Come on, let's get you back to base. Rick isn't going to be happy that you're-"

"Fuck Rick," Merle drawled with a laugh, his hand reaching out lazily for the door at the end of the corridor.

"So polite," Laurel replied with a sarcastic light tone.

"Yeah? Well fuck you as well, Blondie."

Laurel raised her eyebrows. Merle took hold of the door handle that lead into the tombs and pulled down on it.

"What are you doing?" Laurel quipped quickly, reaching out for his hand and taking it off the handle.

"Let's go on an adventure," Merle chided, "ain't no one ever been down this part before-"

"Yeah, that's because we don't know what's down there," Laurel told him with a hiss, pulling him back, but Merle pushed open the door and started through it.

"Merle, don't be _stupid,_" Laurel scolded, "there could be Walkers up there!"

"Aww, you scared?" he teased, pulling her again.

"Yeah, actually," Laurel scolded him, "I'm dead scared. _Walkers,_ Merle. I don't wanna get eaten, and if you were sober you'd know-"

"Well, just look on the bright side," Merle drawled, interrupting her and grabbing her hand to pull her past the top of the corridor with a forceful yank, "if there are any Walkers down here, you're just gonna be dead."

Laurel squirmed, his arm heavy around her shoulder.

"No, Merle, you're half drunk- you're gonna get us killed- Rick!" Laurel called out, riling for assistance.

"Shh!" Merle hissed as he pulled her along into the dark, "if there are geeks down here you're screamin' is gonna bring all of 'em down on our asses."

"Stop it, we need to get out of here!"

"You're borin' as hell," Merle jibed, coming to a door at the end of the corridor and pulling her through. "C'mon, let's see what we can find- heck, maybe we'll find a cure to this biter shit." Merle gave a cackling laugh and cranked open the door.

"Merle-!"

"Shh."

The door creaked open and Laurel felt every muscle in her body wrench, every fiber twist.

"What have we got here?" Merle whispered, slipping in the room.

"Merle!" Laurel seethed, following him into the large room and grabbing his arm. "Merle, come on-!"

"Five minutes, just five, alright?" Merle told her, swaying through the room, "gettin' sick of the sight of the same damn room day in day out- need a bit of variation."

"You're gonna get us both killed!"

"We'll be alright!" he hissed, "stop bein' such a pansy, for God's sake."

"Merle-"

"There ain't nothin' in here," Merle told her with a slur, "if there was... we woulda seen it already. We're gonna be fine, doll face."

Laurel scanned the room again and shook her head.

"Five minutes," she agreed folding her arms across her chest and watching as Merle sauntered about the room.

"This place was… the gym, then," he noted with a heavy slur, guiding his way amongst the exercise equipment and punching the buttons on the electronic devices. "This place'll be good to have," he declared, grabbing a dumbbell and lifting it above his head. "These things wouldn't be much use- end up with one arm bigger than the other. Not that it'd be the first time, heh. Catch, Blondie-" Merle threw the weight at Laurel and she quickly side stepped out of its path, giving him a disapproving look. She had no idea how she was going to convince him out of here.

"Oh, put a smile on that pretty face," Merle riled, lying back on one of the row benches. For a moment his hand pounded, and he thought he might pass out- then the pain passed and he sat up, staring at Laurel. Jeez, she was sweet. No denying it, seventeen or not.

"It's been five minutes," Laurel imputed as he tried to figure out how he might effectively use a pull-bike with only one hand. Merle looked at her again, arms folded by the closed door with an on-edge look scrawled across her visage, and smirked. Here he was, here she was, and hell if he hadn't been imagining cooking up something just like this- get her alone and just go for her, somewhere quiet and where there was no chance of being disturbed- and here was that place. His disoriented functions told him that yes, it was a great idea. Just go for it. So he found himself wandering over to her, swaying now from the deepening effects of the white vodka, and standing before her where she stood against the wall, arms folded across her chest. Merle wondered if he might find any more of that Hooch that she'd taken off him.

"You're gorgeous," Merle told her, sauntering over with another drunken slur.

"You're drunk," Laurel told him, stepping away a little; Merle laughed and sweeped closer to her with a grin.

"That... may be a little true. But I can still see straight at the moment... straight enough, anyway." He laughed and called, "I'm seein' double of you, Cher, but I ain't gonna complain about that, am I?"

She frowned uncomfortably, easing away as he moved closer.

"Y'allright?" he asked carefully, putting his hand clumsily on her arm and stroking it.

"...Fine," Laurel told him, leaning away a little more. She didn't like him like this. "Come on, let's get back. That door down there looks pretty insecure, and you need to sleep this off."

"And what if I don't wanna_ 'sleep it off?'_" He teased, closing the distance between them and putting his arm around Laurel's waist.

"I ain't goin' yet," Merle said decisively. Laurel tried a different tactic.

"They've got some more booze up top," she lied, hoping it might coax him out of the tombs, and off of her.

Merle looked at her suspiciously, tapping his bladed arm against the wall beside her blonde head. "What kind?"

"...Vodka."

Merle shrugged. "Don't really like vodka. I'd rather have _you._"

Laurel swallowed hard at that. "Can we just go back?" she whispered, pushing him away a little. He was starting to freak her out.

"Don't see why we should," Merle slurred, "nice down here. Quiet, ain't it? Plenty of stuff to get up to down here..." He walked into her then, so close their bodies touched, driving her into the back wall with his bladed arm leant up against the side of her head. The interstice between them became almost non-existent, and Laurel felt the blood rush up to her cheeks. "Merle-" she breathed, squirming uncomfortably. "Let's- let's just go back." They were down here, just the two of them alone, and he wasn't thinking straight; the way he held his body against her own made Laurel squirm. It was overpowering and unwanted, there by force and not invitation, and in his drunken state he couldn't see it.

"What is it about this place that scares ya so much, Darlin'?" Merle mused with a drunken smile, forehead touching her own as he squeezed her waist tightly.

Laurel tried shrugging him off and turned her head to the side and looked away from him uncomfortably; his face followed hers, marking her movements teasingly. The drunken closeness, what it suggested, made her want to run in the other direction. Merle squeezed her side again and put his hand under her chin to lift her head up, thumb rubbing at her cheek.

"C'mon, sweetheart," he prompted her, pulling her head up then letting his hand trail down the white skin of her neck. "You can tell me." He buried his face closer to her neck then, oblivious in his drunken state to her obvious discomfort, and pushed his knee against her legs so that they were forced apart. Laurel braced herself and shoved him back some, turning her legs away from him once there was space between them; Merle re-closed the gap again at first opportunity. It wasn't the idea of any Walkers being around that was scaring her now. Laurel shied a little further into the wall, choked by the fumes of the alcohol on his tongue, and one word fell from her taught lips.

"…You."

Merle looked at her then, confused- it took him a while, but even in his drunken state he managed to see the fear her eyes portrayed. He found himself backing up a step, then another, until his head stirred and he found himself grappling for the wall for support.

"Come on," Laurel grumbled darkly, catching his heavy form under her arm and leading him along in his semi-conscious state, "let's get you back, you miserable oaf."

**~oOo~**

"Laurel?" Daryl asked quickly, seeing her and his brother, who was wavering in his steps, coming through to the cell block where everyone else had congregated.

"Do something with him," Laurel said sharply, walking past Daryl and sitting down beside Maggie on the floor.

Daryl went to ask what was going on, but then he caught the smell of alcohol in the air.

"You useless piece," Daryl grumbled, standing up quickly and stepping into Merle's path; Merle, who was almost paralytic now from the influx of the hard drink, allowed himself to be led by Daryl back out into the wreck hall. Daryl pushed his slumbering brother outside into the sharp cold air, and sat him down on one of the platforms outside. Merle slumped down against the protective fences pulled up about the walls of the platform cage, and Daryl knelt down to his side and snapped his fingers before Merle's face.

"Hey," Daryl hollered quickly, clicking his fingers twice more in succession, "you hear me, Merle? You listenin', you dumb sack of shit?"

Merle made some sort of a noise in affirmation, reluctantly opening his eyes and dismissing his brother with an abundance of half-attempted curse words. Daryl shook him by the shoulders, making his head spin.

"What have you taken?" Daryl snapped at him, feeling around in Merle's pockets; "if you've been mixing that crap you take with whatever the hell you've been guzzlin' down your lousy neck you could die, dumb ass-"

"Ain't… took nothin'," Merle gurgled to his brother, head reeling as he lay back against the fence.

"Yeah? Well I don't believe ya-"

"Couldn't find nothin'," Merle added, "Don't think I didn't... look, cuz I did. Where's Laurel gone?"

"Away from you," Daryl crumbled, trying not to wander what Merle could have been pestering her with when she was down in the tombs with him.

"Tell her to come up here," he drawled lazily, eyes wandering without his consent, "...I want her here."

"Yeah, well she don't wanna be near you. What did you do to piss her off so bad?"

"Where's my vodka?" Merle asked, on a completely different track now to his brother, "where have you put it, Darlena, you little shit? If you've drank my vodka... you just... you... shit outta the way."

Daryl rolled his eyes to himself, shaking his head at how deluded his brother had become, unable to even construct a proper insult- then Rick appeared besides Daryl, two vests under his arm and helmets.

"What's he took?" Rick drawled, and Daryl replied, "he's said nothin', just goin' on about vodka- but I know what he's like. Can't find anythin' in his pockets, though."

Rick hooked the vest over Daryl's neck, but he refused to wear the helmet. Rick bent down and went to throw Merle's over him.

"Best not," Merle groaned, consumed by a sudden urge to vomit; Daryl and Rick leaned away from him as he spewed his guts out over the edge of the platform.

"Nice," Daryl groaned sarcastically, "real nice, man."

"Fuck...you," Merle groaned, straightening himself out. With a resounding crash, Merle's head rolled on his shoulders and his entire body slumped- he lay beside the wall, unconscious and drooling. Daryl stared at his brother with hard, disapproving eyes.

"Dick-wad," he breathed, kicking Merle in the leg and savoring his libelous statement.

"Let's leave him out here to sober up," Rick advised, turning back inside.

"Yeah," Daryl agreed, smacking Merle's leg and standing up. "Let him choke on his own vomit."

"Not a good idea," Hershel advised, appearing in the doorway. "Lie him on his side and bend his knee- show me his fingertips. He could have alcohol poisoning."

"Good," Daryl mused, but bent down to his brother and extended the digits of his hand all the same.

"Is he cold?" Hershel asked- Daryl shook his head, feeling the palm of his brother's hand. Hershel asked Daryl to check the colour of Merle's lips- they looked normal.

"Well, it doesn't look like poisoning," Hershel exclaimed, "someone ought stay out here with him, make sure he doesn't choke or throw a fit when he wakes up."

Rick looked at Daryl.

"I'll deal with it," Daryl recited, _"'he causes a problem, he's on me._'"

Rick nodded, tapping Daryl on the back and heading back inside with Hershel.

"Dumb piece of shit," Daryl sighed, brushing a hand through his hair and sitting down beside his comatose brother.

**AN: Hey gurl heyyy**

**This is my new favourite chapter- and 4,000 words long, huzahh! Geesh, like Merle was gonna remain sober for the rest of the apocalypse ;D  
**

**Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter, guys- I deffo enjoyed writing it! Review if you have the time!**


	29. Chapter 29: Lacerate

**Chapter Thirty:**

**Lacerate**

It was the middle of the night and Rick had been unable to sleep, so had come down here and sat at the bench, a half-glass of stagnant, chilled water to keep him company, the soft moan of Judith's cries the only sound. He had tried to console her, but she was unresponsive to his attempts at affection; he downed another glug of the cold water and let out a dry moan. One good thing had arisen from Merle's alcohol expedition at least- they now realized an effective place to keep drinks cold.

Rick couldn't bear to sleep. He knew that Glenn and Michonne were out on night watch, but he felt as though he couldn't risk sleep for a moment- the last time he had given in to the temptation, he'd ended up with Andrea on their doorstep, and what could have been a whole army more; what if she had brought the Governor's men and they'd chosen then to attack? They would have been unprepared, most of all himself. He needed to be awake, and the dread of meeting with the Governor tomorrow was drawing away any chance he had of sleeping anyway. It wasn't what might happen that he was afraid of- it's what probably would not. They were heading out there as a chance to settle things, to find away to end their conflict and live in peace; but what if there was no way? That chance, the fact that it might falter and materialize into nothing; that's what Rick was afraid of. He was afraid to _hope._

"He awake yet?" Rick asked as Daryl came back through the mess hall in the cell block, looking more tired than Rick had seen him in a long time.

"He was up on his feet about an hour ago, but he's asleep again," Daryl told Rick with a drowsy tone, referring to Merle- he was tired as hell, and couldn't stand a minute longer of listening to his brother's snoring. "He's gonna be alright, but he's gonna have one hell of a hangover in the morning. I've put his helmet on him, with the visor up, and one of the vests just encase you-know-who shows up, but Glenn and 'Chonne are out there anyway, so if there's any trouble we should be straight."

Rick nodded, and Daryl sat for a while opposite him. Neither said a word for a long time, until Daryl asked,

"We all set for tomorrow?"

It was clear that question was thick on everybody's mind at the moment. Rick shrugged his shoulders then nodded uneasily.

"Ready as we'll ever be. Hershel seems up for it-"

"You know I'm solid on it too, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. I just... I hope it doesn't fall through."

"You think it will?"

"...I hope it won't."

"Yeah," Daryl whisped quietly, standing up and getting ready to go back up to the perch where he'd made his bed the last few weeks, "Yeah, me too." Daryl called a goodnight and left Rick alone with his long thoughts.

**~oOo~**

A dull, morose attitude hung over the inhabitants of the prison that morning. Judith and Alvi had both screamed solidly all night, so nobody had slept properly- Rick, being awake anyway, had taken the duty of watching the babies and trying to console them, but his efforts had been unyielding. As Daryl, Hershel and Rick chose their guns and packed their rounds, the others sat with tried faces, unsure of the day ahead and what it would bring.

"Well, fuck me," Merle grumbled, hand on his head as he dragged himself inside, casting off his helmet. "Head's killin'."

"Your own fault," Daryl grumbled.

"Don't I know it," Merle drawled, letting his head fall back on his shoulder. "Y'all off now?" he asked, noticing that they were preparing to leave- Hershel nodded.

"I don't like it," Merle told the group, arms folded and back against the wall as he watched Daryl, Rick and Hershel, "we're sendin' the sherriff, the mountain boy and the cripple to resolve our problems- seems dumb. No offense, old man." Merle raised his prosthetic in a gesture of being in similar territory. Hershel nodded, securing a glock to his leg with duct tape.

"We talked 'bout this," Daryl reminded him, "just us three. Like we'd let you come, anyway- look at you, you're hungover."

"I haven't been that drunk in... hell, it's gotta be six years now. My head feels like it's in a blender," Merle agreed.

"Well there we go, then," Daryl continued. "You lot have got loads to do, anyway- all those guns Rick and 'Chonne brought back need sortin' out." As an afterthought, once Rick and Hershel had moved out he added, "and you need to talk to Laurel."

Merle looked over at his brother uneasily.

"Whad'ya mean?"

"She found you last night," Daryl informed him, "wandering the tombs with a bottle of vodka, she was pretty pissed at you when she brought you back."

"How come?"

"Dunno. She didn't say jack, just told me to deal with you and sat herself down. You must have done something, though. She wasn't happy."

"In the dog house again," Merle muttered, wandering what it was he could have done- he didn't remember anything about last night, not even picking up a bottle to begin with. Daryl, Hershel and Rick got in the truck they'd chosen, and Carol, Axel and Merle saw them out. Merle could see Laurel sat up in the left guard tower with Glenn and Beth- he wandered again what he might have done, hoping it hadn't been too bad.

"You look after my little brother, Sheriff," Merle told Rick.

"We're gon' be fine," Daryl said, smacking the side of the truck, "we'll be back before you know it... we're gonna work this out."

"I hope so," Carol sang, wishing them well as Axel pulled open the gate and the trio drove through.

**~oOo~**

"Are you okay?" Beth asked Laurel up in the guard tower once Glenn had shuffled down the stairs to help with moving the guns. Laurel stared a little blankly, deep in thought.

"...Laur?"

Laurel snapped quickly out of her thoughts, looking up at Beth with a forced smile.

"I'm alright, yeah," she winced, but Beth wasn't fooled.

"Are you sure?"

"...Yeah."

Beth didn't want to push the subject if she didn't want to talk about it, but she felt she just couldn't leave it there; they'd all seen how she'd marched back in after finding Merle drunk down the corridor- Beth hadn't seen her like that before, and it made her worry.

"Did something happen last night?"

Laurel looked blank again, and then whispered, "not really."

"...Do you want to tell me what happened?" Beth reached a hand out to her friend and placed it on her knee; Laurel looked away and started,

"It's just 'cuz he was drunk; I mean, it freaked me out. He sort of- pinned me up against the wall, said a couple of things- but he stopped. It wasn't anything serious, but it just spooked me."

"...What kind of things?"

Laurel blushed then, remembering his suggestive flirting.

"Just... things. People say things when they're drunk, y'know?"

Beth nodded and tried, "you should talk to him."

"I don't want to," Laurel said quickly. "Maybe later, but... not yet."

Beth nodded, squeezing Laurel's hand a little.

******~oOo~**

Later that afternoon, the remainder of the group had congregated back inside the cell block, all but Carol and Axel, who had taken up the watch duty. The others, all but Laurel and Beth who were feeding the babies in the cells while the others counted up the guns and ammo, shifting them about the corridors and podiums around the place.

"Judy's fed," Beth offered, coming back through the cells, "she's sleeping now- do you want me to do anything?"

"Run these up to the top balcony on the left, could you, Beth?" Glenn asked, handing her two rifles, "then go up to the main guard tower and take out all the ammo- we need to share it out properly, get everything ready encase things turn sour." Beth nodded, heading for the stairs and disappearing out of the tall door to the courtyard.

Merle stood against the metal grate, arm up on the doorway and a cynical scowl on his face.

"What we should be doin'," he drawled from the inner door of the wreck room, watching as the others counted out the weapons, "is loading some of this firepower in a truck and payin' ourselves a visit to the Governor- we know where he is, right now."

"...Are you suggesting that we just go in and kill him?"

"Yeah, I am."

"We told Rick and Daryl that we'd stay put," Maggie said to him coldly, swinging a rifle over her shoulder and heading for the door.

"I've changed my mind, sweetheart. Bein' on the side-line with my little brother out there… ain't sittin' right with me."

"The three of them are right in the middle of it- no idea we're coming. They could get taken hostage or killed- a thousand things could go wrong-"

"And they will," Merle told the others.

"My dad can take care of himself," Carl piped up, looking quickly at Merle. The man rolled his jaw and said slowly,

"Sorry, son- but your dad's head could be on a pike real soon."

Carl glared at Merle before sweeping out of the cell block.

"Don't say that to him," Maggie called over, following after Carl.

"It's not the right move- not now," Glenn honed. "We can't take the risk of putting them in the crossfire- that's my decision, It's final."

~oOo~

Half an hour later, Merle had his hand working in a bag on his shoulder in the cell next to where the babies were- Laurel stuck her head around the door and quickly sussed what he was planning. They hadn't spoken since his drunken escapade.

"Merle," she said coldly- for a moment it seemed he wouldn't respond, but then the muscles in his hand laxed and reluctantly he looked over at her. She shook her head with a tight, worried expression.

"Don't start," he told her darkly, and she shook her head at him again.

"You can't go. You know what will happen if-"

"I'm off," he told her shortly, scooping up his rifle and moving out into the wreck room. "Gonna end this shit before it gets any worse. Michonne don't wanna come, and that's fine- but I'm goin'. Gonna finish this for good, and you'll all thank me when it's done."

Laurel grabbed a firm hold of the top of his arm and he shrugged her off harshly, moving up closer to where Glenn and the others stood.

"Hey, you're not going," Glenn snapped, reaching out to Merle.

"Don't fucking touch me," Merle spat, moving up the steps. "I don't need permission. I'm goin'."

"I can't let you."

"Well, you sure as shit can't stop me."

"It's a stupid idea!" Laurel rebuked him from across the room, Beth having come out beside her cradling Alvi, "You'll get everybody _killed,_ Merle!"

"If you're gonna live here with us, it's gonna be on our terms," Maggie demanded from beside Michonne, "If Michonne can do it, why can't you?!"

"'Cause it's my brother out there, that's why!" Merle roared, looking around the group, "what the hell is the matter with y'all?"

"I'm not gonna let you put them in danger," Glenn hissed assertively, moving across the balcony so that he stood in Merle's path, blocking the door to the outside of the prison. Merle looked directly at Glenn, having made his way to the foot of the steps with the bag full of guns. Merle took a step closer to the boy and breathed quietly,

"Nut up already, boy. This guy cops himself a feel of your woman and you pussy out like this? Get out of my way."

"…No."

Merle nodded at the boy- with a swift swing of his fist he grabbed Glenn around the jaw, pulling on his neck so that he was forced off the slope of the staircase- Glenn wrapped him arms forcefully around the mass of Merle's waist, causing the the two of them to fly down and slam hard onto the concrete beneath. Merle crushed his fist into Glenn's face, once, twice, three times, drawing a flood of red blood from his nose as Glenn fought to get him off.

"Get off him!" Maggie screamed, running forwards and pulling at the back of Merle's shirt as he straddled Glenn, his hand thrust around the boy's neck. Beth, holding tightly to Alvi, rushed to place him back down in his cot in order that she may do something, anything to help. Moving back into the room, she remembered the reaction to the gun when Merle had collared Glenn before, and reached for one of the guns off the table.

"Merle!" Laurel shrieked, joining Maggie in her assault as Michonne drew her blade behind her, "what are you doing, leave him alone-!"

"-Get off me!"

Merle arched his elbow back at his assailants in an attempt to get them off. His bayonet tore through the air with a vulgar rush, striking across some weak surface- he heard a sharp gasp and turned his head.

Laurel had reeled back, staring at her forearm with a bemused, startled glare- her palm clutched over a vertical slash which ran the length of her upper forearm, a glare of red over the flesh- she gasped in pain, tightening her hold and stepping back again, her hand now slippery with dribbling blood. Laurel looked up at Merle, eyes wide with surprise and horror.

"I…" he began, loosening his grip a little on Glenn's throat, "I didn't mean to-"

Glenn forced the hand from about his neck and began an attempt to wriggle free from beneath Merle's weight- the larger man didn't resist, and Maggie pulled herself off of him and held her hands out to Glenn, helping him to his feet. Merle stood, arms out in a gesture of apology, and took a step towards Laurel- she flinched away, pulling her wounded arm closer to her chest.

"Come on, Laurel," Maggie directed, taking hold of Laurel's wrist with her arm around her shoulder and leading the girl away; Laurel continued to stare at Merle with the same disbelieving, hurt expression as Maggie directed her into the first cell in the block. Beth put down the unfired gun, scooped up her father's medical kit from the floor next to the door and followed her sister and friend.

"Happy now?" Glenn snapped hoarsely, fingers working at his neck; Merle gave him a vicious yet defeated stare and made for the entrance of the cell block, with the intention of saying something, anything to Laurel.

"I don't think that's such a great idea," Michonne told him, standing quickly in the doorway. Merle's hard stare wasn't enough to phase her- with a curt nod he dropped the bag of weapons and the rifle to the floor at her feet, and made for the door. This time Glenn let him pass, and Merle disappeared out into the heat of the courtyard.

**~oOo~**

"Here," Maggie offered, wiping a wet cloth over the swell of red open on Laurel's forearm.

"Ouch," she winced through a rush of breath, and Maggie apologized. "It's a good job it was your outer arm, not your inner," Maggie told her as she cleaned away as much of the blood as possible, "damn bastard could have slashed your wrist-"

She looked quickly to Beth, who was looking away, her fingers covering the pink scar on her own wrist.

"...Sorry, Bethy. Here, Laurel- press down."

Laurel did as she was told, pressing the cloth over the gash. After a few minutes, Beth opened up the bottle of anti-septic she'd used on Alvi's sores when she'd given him his bath.

"This'll sting," she warned as she peeled off the old cloth, replacing it with one satiated in the cool liquid- Laurel clenched her teeth and eyes through the burn, holding out until the pain began to numb.

**AN: Hey there people! **

_**...Taste the cliche!**_** I don't even care how cliche it was, because I shamelessly love Merle accidentally**** cutting Laurel.**

**Hope you've all had spantabulous days. If you liked this chapter, please leave a review! And if anyone wants to fangirl/boy over the walking dead, please PM me... I have season 4 feels i need to release, and an equally nerdy friend would be much appreciated! ;D**


	30. Chapter 30: Heal

_**AN: Just to let you guys know, there are OC opportunities coming up; read the end AN for details ;)**_

**Chapter Thirty-One: **

**Heal**

"What happened?!" Carol called, striding down the room and staring at Laurel's arm, having heard from Michonne what had just occurred; she took hold of the limb carefully, turning it that she might see the bandage.

"I'll tell you what happened," Maggie seethed hotly, "that oaf Merle happened, started beating up Glenn then slashed Laurel's arm-"

"It was an accident," Laurel interrupted quietly.

"Well, I'm not sure about that," Maggie said darkly, lifting herself from the bed and making her way out of the room. "Come on, Bethy- we'll go out on watch."

Once the two had dissapeared, Carol turned to the girl- she couldn't quite believe what had happened. hen again, something like this was bound to happen sooner or later, that she knew- combining Merle's temper with that persistent bayonet could only lead to trouble; it just disturbed Carol that Laurel was the one on the receiving end, accident or not.

"How's your arm doing, sweetie?" Carol asked eventually.

"Okay," Laurel answered, avoiding her eyes- she looked horribly upset. "It's stopped bleeding now."

Carol nodded, brushing away the silence. "Have you... spoken to him yet?"

"...Who?"

"Merle."

"Oh," Laurel started, "uh... no, not yet. I- I don't really want to. Not at the moment."

"I'm not surprised," Carol agreed slowly, shaking her head. "Gave you a real fright, I'm sure."

"He didn't mean it, though," Laurel defended quickly, and Carol nodded- she was reminded with a sudden fervor of her dead husband, how she'd defend his every action and of the times he'd panic when he took the abuse past breaking point, those two occasions when she'd threatened to leave and take Sophia with her, begging her not to leave, showering her with kisses and gifts and apologizing, always apologizing; until the next week, when he'd start all over again. Carol looked at this girl, bright and inquisitive and far too young for any of this, and thought of Ed- the idea of her going through what she had been subjected to, the thought of her being around Merle Dixon; it couldn't sit right with her. Carol remembered the scowl on Laurel's visage as she had returned from finding Merle drunk, of how hard she had been, and wondered what had happened. Nothing good, that was for sure.

"He hasn't done anything to you, has he, Laur?" Carol asked delicately; Laurel swallowed thickly and answered,

"no. He's nice to me- nicer than he is to most."

"Have you not thought there might be a reason for that, sweetheart?" Carol asked, "...past your personality? Guys will always be nice to a pretty face and a nice figure, even guys like Merle."

"I should be safe then," Laurel jested.

"Honestly," Carol returned, "anything, sweetie- anything happened- and you tell me. I'll sort it out."

"Thanks, Carol, but... nothing happened," Laurel answered, though it wasn't strictly true.

"You promise me?"

"...I promise."

"Men like Merle," Carol told Laurel as she wrapped up the bandage tighter around the girl's white arm, "they say things... do things. They're good at getting into your head. Make you feel like you deserve whatever they're throwing at you... my husband was like that."

Carefully, Carol lifted up the hem of her rosebud top. There, just below her navel, ran that thick shiny scar, darted against her delicate skin.

"It's not from a C-section," she explained; Laurel remembered seeing the abdominal scorn when they had dressed after the showers. "Ed- my husband… _ex-_husband," she corrected herself, "he slashed at me one night with a knife from the kitchen, right in front of our daughter. That was the worst part of it; having to keep an eye over my shoulder, tip toeing around like a little mouse, just waiting for the day he'd start on our little girl, too; no mother should have to worry about that. No mother should be so weak that she..."

Carol faltered, losing track of her words as she hit an emotional wall.

"Sophia," she choked eventually, lowering the hem of her shirt. "Sophia was my daughter's name."

_Sophia._

Laurel remembered the message written on the car, up on the highway. The emptiness in Daryl's face as he'd told her...

_She's dead._

Now she understood. Something heavy dropped in her chest.

"But... that's neither here nor there," Carol continued sharply as though to mask the pain, "I passed out, bleeding all over the place- and woke up propped up in bed, the cut bandaged and with a cup of tea on the bedside table. Didn't cut deep, but it scared the life out of all of us, even Ed. I think he thought I might actually go to the police- I wish more than anything that I had. He made the effects of the abuse less long term after that; stuck with punches and slaps, hands around my neck- things became a lot more..." Carol seemed to struggle on the word. "...Sexual."

Laurel felt numb, like someone had drowned her heart. Her sorrow, the disbelief and mourning that Carol should have had to undergo such a horrific nightmare, to suffer at the hands of that man for so long; it clove her in two, dragged her somewhere dark and cold and abandoned her there. The only thing Laurel found she could do, the only gesture that could ever express what she needed to show, was to take up Carols hands in her own and just stare at them. Carol smiled at the girl.

"Hey," she whispered, lifting one of her hands, still enclosed in Laurels, to the girl's face as though to wipe away some imaginary tear. "I know Merle's not the same as Ed," Carol told her reassuringly, "but being around him all the time won't do you any good, sweetheart. I know you might think you can change him, make all the bad things go away; stop him being so erratic, make him settle in here and get on with everyone- but you can't. People don't just change their skin like that... the only person who can help Merle is Merle."

Carol watched the girl a moment, the sadness and uncertainty in her eyes. "You need to talk to him. Clear the air between the two of you."

"I know," Laurel said, nodding her head a little reluctantly.

"And if anything ever does happen, you come straight to me, okay, sweetheart- don't stand for anything. If Merle or- or anyone else makes a move you're uncomfortable with, you tell me straight away and I'll put them in their place."

"I will. Thanks, Carol."

Carol smiled, standing and leaving the girl alone in the cell, cradling her sliced forearm and staring out at the bars of the grey cells.

**~oOo~**

Rick, Hershel and Daryl returned safely just as the sun was falling. The group gathered quietly, ready to hear the results of their venture, all but those up on watch; Merle appeared momentarily in the doorway of one of the cells, rifle across his waist. Laurel listened from the doorway of the opposite cell, hiding her arm behind her back and avoiding looking at the man.

"So, I met this Governor," Rick started, "...sat with him for quite a while."

"Just the two of you?" Merle asked quickly. Rick nodded at him.

"Yeah."

Merle raised his eyebrows and disappeared from the cell block again, shaking his head. "Should have gone when we had the chance, bro."

The others watched Merle leave with disapproving looks, and Rick continued,

"He wants the prison. He wants us gone... dead. He wants us dead for what we did to Woodbury." He let that sink in amongst them for a moment, each face deep with shock then added,

"We're going to war."

**~oOo~**

"Daryl," Carol called a few minutes later, touching his arm from the doorway of her cell as he went to find Merle. There were a thousand things on her mind right now, a million questions she wanted to ask about what was going to happen next, this so-called war with Woodbury- but she felt they needed to deal with one thing at a time, and right now, today's incident was the problem. With a small smile Daryl stepped in after her, and she looked up at him with an uneasy expression. Daryl sensed there was something going on and asked,

"What's up?"

"Nothing's up," Carol tried, attempting to keep things in proportion, "it's just... Merle."

Daryl's face tightened. Typical. "What's he done this time?"

"It's Laurel," Carol told him quietly, "he's cut up her arm."

"He did what?!" Daryl cried in disbelief, edging from the room to go and confront his brother.

"He didn't mean to," Carol consoled quickly, grabbing his arm and ushering him back inside, "apparently he got into a fight with Glenn and she tried to pull him off, and that knife thing just-" Carol motioned slicing with her forearm, and Daryl nodded.

"...She alright?"

"Yeah. Maggie's bandaged her up, she's just a little shaken, I think."

"…Where's he gone off to now?" Daryl asked, shrugging his vest from his shoulders.

"Not sure," Carol nodded, "nobody had seen him all morning till just now- he's been trying to get his head clear, I suppose, sort himself out. He feels bad about it, I think."

"I'll go find him. He won't listen to anyone else-"

"Wait, Daryl."

Carol put a hand on his arm, stomach fluttering at the contact. Jesus, he made her feel like a schoolgirl all over again, drooling over the prettiest boy in class. He lowered his head to her, a little closer by her face, and Carol found herself blushing.

"I'm worried about her," Carol told him, sitting down on the bunk of the cell. He looked at her with an uneasy expression, and she tapped her hand against the seat beside her; carefully he sat, head bowed. Carol turned to him and whispered, "Your brother's not the kind to take things seriously, you know that. Laurel is... young and inexperienced, and too nice for her own good- he'd swallow that girl whole, use her bones as toothpicks and think nothing of it." she arched her back against the seat and continued, "don't let him. I've known men like Merle…" and then, very quietly, she whispered, "I was married to one."

"He ain't nothin' like that bastard was," Daryl defended hotly, picking at the threads on the back of his vest with rough fingers, perched on the end of the cot as though he was prepared to take flight at any moment. He thought of the way Ed Peletier had treated Carol back in the camp; he had never thought much of it back when they were in Atlanta- hell, thing like that was every day where he came from- he'd seen it enough with his own ma and pa, back when she'd been alive. Now he thought of the way Ed would talk to Carol, the way she'd shy away from him as he paraded around the camp running his big fat mouth, and felt the blood boil hot through his veins.

"Merle ain't nothin' like him," Daryl told her again, twisting a particularly taught thread around his fore finger. He pulled tightly on it and the thing snapped, holding fast to his warped digit.

"I know he's your brother," Carol concluded consolingly, trying her best to reason with him. "But he isn't good for you. Don't let him drag you down, Daryl. After all... look how far you've come."

With careful fingers, she reached out for his hand. Daryl's own went rigid beneath her grip; she looked up at him with a meaningful expression. He wasn't used to contact, that she understood completely; but she needed this right now- maybe he did too.

"I'll talk to him," Daryl nodded, seeing how it comforted her. He didn't like this thing with his brother and that girl- but he didn't see the harm in it as much as Carol seemed to. Maybe women were better at those kind of things, could see when something was up. "I will, but that don't mean he's gonna listen to me, you know that, right?"

"I know that," Carol breathed after him with a small sigh. Daryl nodded at her, stroking his thumb carefully over the backs of her fingers. Carol smiled in response, watching his cool eyes.

**~oOo~**

"Merle?" Daryl called out, ascending the steps of the second tower- he found his brother up there with Axel, smoking the last of their blunt cigarettes with a thirsty desperation to each drag.

"What?" Merle drawled.

"Can I talk to ya a minute?"

"...Go away, boy. Can't ya see i'm busy? The grown-ups are talkin',piss off."

"S'alright, I was gonna see about findin' some food anyway," Axel offered, drawing in the last of his cigarette and heading for the stairs. "You two enjoy your talk- see you guys later."

Axel left, and Merle invited his brother into the now free seat.

"What do you want now?" Merle asked hotly, stubbing out the last of his cigarette as it began to burn the ends of his fingers.

"...You got into some trouble today, didn't ya?"

"Oh, give me strength," Merle hissed, "so I clocked your Chinese friend- little piece of shit deserved it, was tryin' to stop me coin' out there to help ya-"

"Good," Daryl interrupted, "If you'd turned up it could have all gone to hell- they played their side fair, only two back-up guys. Milton and Martinez, I think-"

"I liked those two," Merle added. "Things just happened to go well- but what if they hadn't and I had to live with the guilt of letting your worthless ass get killed by that son of a bitch? You expected me to just sit back and act like it wasn't happenin'?"

"That's what you're doing now, isn't it?!" Daryl's snapped. Merle glared at him sternly and Daryl went on,

"...Carol told me what happened. With Laurel."

"Stupid bitch shouldn't have grabbed for me-"

"Don't talk like that about her," Daryl scolded him, "all she's been doin' these last few days is tryin' to be nice to ya, hell knows why that is. Should be grateful anyone gives two shits about ya 'cept me, way you've been actin' since you got here. You're just spoutin' shit cuz you're pissed at yourself for doin' it in the first place . It ain't her fault you're a jack ass."

Merle knew, of course, that his little brother was right. And of course he felt bad for cutting her. But he knew that, right about now, his bro was gonna tell him he needed to go and talk to that girl. And that was a thing he couldn't face to do yet.

"You should talk to Laurel."

_Figures._

"You should shut up," Merle told him, "start mindin' your own damn business, boy. I'll talk to her when I wanna talk to her, no sooner, no later."

"...So long as you do," Daryl said coolly. "And say sorry, will ya? To her." Daryl took in a deep breath and added, "and to Glenn."

Merle scoffed under his breath and gestured to his little brother with his bayonet. "Don't push it."

Merle stood, walking down the steps with Daryl quickly and going back through the C block, passing the cell where Laurel was sat. As he reached the foot of the steps, Daryl at his heels, he turned to his brother.

"Don't follow me," he told him. "What are ya, a puppy dog or somethin'?"

Merle ascended the steps and Daryl stood at the bottom of them, watching his brother's back vanish over the horizon of the dark upper cells.

**~oOo~**

Carol found herself stood outside Merle's cell not too long later; Daryl had told her what he'd said up in the guard tower, and decided she ought to affirm it. She called attention to herself, and Merle waved her in awkwardly.

"Come on, then," he drawled, "I'm gettin' another grillin', am I? Could do without listenin' to your bullshit, to be honest-"

"I'm not here to _grill_ you," Carol offered, sitting down beside him.

"This place ain't nothin'," Merle claimed. Carol looked at him with a gaze that suggested they both skew his words weren't spoke in truth.

"People don't risk everything for nothing," Carol told him eventually. "If you wanted to leave you could have talked Daryl into it- you're good at getting him to do what you tell him to. But instead you stay here at this place, with us, and choose to fight. Risking your life for this place, for these people."

Maybe you're still telling yourself you're only here because of Daryl, but I think you're starting to care about more than just your brother."

Merle thought about that for a minute- it was true that he liked some of these people- Laurel for sure, whether she hated his guts or not, and Axel, this woman despite all her gab. The sheriff's son and the farmer's youngest were harmless, and the girl's old pops was a good man- Merle knew he would be able to live with Michonne and Rick eventually, despite their differences. The only real problem was the Asian kid and his girlfriend. Merle thought again of Laurel and sighed.

"That girl truly and honestly believes that there's some good in you," Carol told him with a sternness. She added, "and you know what? I'm starting to think there might be some there too."

"Oh yeah?" Merle smirked, "since when have you been thinkin' that?"

"Well, a person who's coated themselves in so many layers of bullshit has to have something good worth hiding," Carol reasoned. Merle gave a breathy laugh, and Carol returned it. "But in all seriousness," she told him, "you're not a bad man, Merle."

"I done some awful things," Merle told her quietly. "Things you people got no idea about. What exactly do ya have to do to be called a _'bad man,'_ if not the shit I've been doin' over the last year? And before that?"

"...Do you regret the things you've done?"

Merle sighed at her- what was he doing, opening up to this woman of all people. "I do," he answered, "but that don't mean I wouldn't do 'em again. To keep my brother safe." He though of Laurel, and than as an after thought, "for you people."

Carol smiled at him sadly.

"This could be your chance, Merle... make things right, start anew." Carol stood, leant against the doorway. "Don't mess it up."

**~oOo~ **

"What are we gonna do, man?" Daryl asked Rick,arms hung over the balcony fence and head lowered.

"I don't know yet," Rick told him, voice low; he didn't feel Daryl was the first person he should tell about the deal proposed on Michonne; he needed to talk with Hershel, that he knew.

"Are you scared?" Rick asked carefully; Daryl moved about uncomfortably a moment then, as though it were a shameful thing, just shrugged his shoulders.

"You should be," Rick drawled, shining the knife in his hand with the sleeve of his shirt. Daryl watched him working at the blade a moment and said,

"We can't afford to be scared, man. If our people see that we are- us guys- I think that'd scare 'em even more. We gotta hold out and hold up 'till this is over- then we can start breathin' again."

Daryl walked back inside, leaving Rick out in the dying blaze of the sun, and was soon replaced by the wise old man, who Daryl had thought it fit to send out to speak with Rick and ease the troubles on his heavy mind.

"The group's taking it as well as can be expected," Hershel told Rick as he met him out on the balcony, "Merle and Michonne are convinced we should hit first- Carol and I think we should take our chances on the road... but we're in this together. So if we stay and fight, so be it."  
Rick nodded.

"He gave me a choice- a way out," Rick explained to Hershel, speaking of the Governor, confiding in the man the secret he could no longer contain.  
"...What does he want?"

"Michonne."  
"...He'll kill her-"  
"-And then kill us anyway," Rick agreed, nodding his head slightly. "...But what if he doesn't? What if this is the answer?"

"Why didn't you tell _them?_" Hershel asked, referring openly to the rest of the group.

"They need to be scared."  
"They are," Hershel confirmed, thinking of Beth's gaunt face when she'd heard the news- oh, his poor girls. They were terrified.  
"Good," Rick offered, "'Cause that's the only way they'll accept it."  
Hershel shook his head- this wasn't right.

"She saved my life... and Carl's. Glenn, Maggie- if she hadn't come here, we never would have known they were taken. She's earned her place."  
"Yeah... yeah, she has." Rick bowed his head sadly then faced the glaring sun. "But are you willing to sacrifice your daughters' lives for her?"

Hershel couldn't answer that question- of course his girls were worth more to him than that woman, and he'd watch a hundred men die to see them safe- but this... this was not right.

"Why are you telling me?"

Rick itched the back of his hand and grumbled, "because I'm hoping you can talk me out of it."

**AN: **

_**-OC Oppertunities-**_

_**TIME TO GET INTERACTIVE! **__**I'm quite ahead in my writing at the moment, guys, and have reached a point where new minor characters will be being introduced- If anyone has an OC they would like to see involved in the story, or wants to make one up on the spot, please fill out the form below and post it in the reviews; I'd be very grateful for it! :**_

_Name:_

_Age:_

_Gender:_

_Appearance:_

_Personality:_

_Skills:_

_Strengths:_

_Weaknesses:_

_Family members:_

_Relationships (romantic and/or friendships) with canon/ other OC characters:_

_Other:_

_**If anyone would like additional details as to how the OC would be used, please ask! You can submit more than one OC if you so wish, so feel free to do so!**_

**WRITE ALL THE WORDS  
SHIP ALL THE CARYL**

**Lots of talking... discussing stuff n thaaangs. No Lerle, but there'll be plenty of that next chapter. And then... ohnowegoontoapathofcrazyeventsthati'dlovetotellyou allaboutbutwon'tbecauseit'llruinitforyou. MUST RESTRAIN SELF.**

**And also guys: 15,000 VIEWS OMG WOOOO!**

**Love,**

**Wizadora x**


	31. Chapter 31: Luck

**AN: Another musical chapter! But it's ME singing... boo. Did it specially for this chapter- It was very spur of the momento- no vocal exercises and I usually only sing opera. Country is not my forte, so the britishness of my voice kind of wierds it out, and to top it off at the end I was on the verge of a coughing fit XD But, as many repulsive individuals have said before me... YOLO**

watch?v=-HNm6AitDHo _('Chelsea Hotel #2 female cover', username: Shazammize)_

**copy the link into the youtube search bar, top result, look out for the (*) and hit play when you see it! BRACE YOUR EARS, MOFOS!**

**WRITE SOME LERLE YEAH**

**Chapter Thirty-Two:**

**Luck**

Laurel had decided that Carol was right- she should talk to Merle, about the events of both today and last night; It was going to be difficult to confront, but it had to be done- it just had to.

As though by some strange co-incidence, she bumped into him on her way out of the cells and up the stairs to meet him- perhaps he had been coming to find her too?

Neither said a word to the other for a long moment- Laurel noticed Merle's eyes go to her bandaged arm and she pulled it around her protectively, for some reason feeling embarrassed of the wound.

"It's fine," she tried dismissively, referring to the pain, and Merle shook his head.

"It ain't _'fine',_ sweetheart."

She lowered her eyes, unsure of what to say; eventually he breathed heavily and drawled, "come and walk with me for a minute."

**~oOo~**

Rick walked up to Carl, who was sat up in Daryl's watchtower eating cold beans from a can, watching over the inside of the cell block. Rick coughed and entered, sitting down beside his son, the sheriff's hat pulled low over his eyes.

"Did Daryl say it was alright for you to be up in here?" Rick asked, noting Daryl's menial belongings scattered about the room- his red bandanna, the book Andrea had given him as a peace offering when she'd shot him in the temple, a couple of bolts from his crossbow and his leather jacket with the wings stitched onto the back. Carl shrugged, churning and masticating the beans with his teeth.

"What you said," Rick began awkwardly, "about that man we left... the one whose bag we took."

"What of it?"

"...I'm worried about you, Carl. You're worryin' me."

"Why, because I'm honest about the way the world works? Get over it, dad. that's the way life is now. It's us, the Walkers, and them."

"You don't... Care anymore," Rick told him, voice in agony. How had his little boy changed so much?

"Why should I care?" Carl called, "I only care about Judith, you, our group. We're the only ones who matter anymore. Everyone else can just... _Die._"

Rick took a step back then, feeling something in his chest cave in from the pressure. What was happening to his son?

**~oOo~**

Laurel and Merle walked out of the cell block in silence, neither looking at the other. They came to a halt at one of the metal benches beneath the section join of the two cell blocks, where the area was caged off and safe. Merle looked at her then, eyes darting across her place face, and he said,

"I'm sorry 'bout your arm."

Laurel exhaled, the relief of the apology greater than she could explain.

"You know it was an accident, right?" Merle asked her, keeping his eyes on her pale face.

"Yeah," Laurel breathed, "but... you scared me, Merle. The way you pounced on Glenn, I thought you were gonna tear his head off, and then-"

Laurel glanced down at her bandaged forearm and shrugged. "Then you got drunk."

"Did I do anythin'?" He asked her uncertainly, and Laurel gulped. "I mean... to ya?"

Laurel understood what he was trying to convey and swallowed awkwardly- _why were the words to hard to say?_

"You... sort of... got me up the wall," she tried, avoiding his eye now as though it were something she ought be embarrassed about.

"_'Sort of?_'" He questioned, not wanting her to tip-toe around the subject. She needed to be straight with him- otherwise, what was the point?

"...You got me up the wall," Laurel corrected herself awkwardly. "You were a bit... touchy-feeley, but you didn't do anything."

Merle bowed his head- he was regretting it now, taking a drink._ Dumb as shit decisions you make, Dixon,_ he scolded himself mentally, then turned to Laurel and quickly said,

"I don't remember any of it, sweetheart. If I did-"

"You were paralytic," Laurel said understandingly, wanting to forget the whole affair; for some reason she felt she would find it easier if she were able to pretend it had never happened, to go on as normal- but she knew that wasn't the right way to deal with the situation. If they didn't talk about it, if they didn't say what needed to be said and do what they had to do, the discomfort of it would hang over both of their heads for as long as they both lived.

"Promise me you won't do that again," Laurel told him in a whisper, looking at him this time.

"Alright," he agreed quickly, "I didn't mean to freak you out, darlin'-"

"...What were you thinking?"

"Just... needed a kick, y'know?"

Laurel looked at him with a hard stare; she looked hurt. Her face seemed to ask if that was an excuse, if a quicktrip out of this place was really worth hurting her so badly, upsetting her like this. Merle turned away and shook his head.

"Nah... 'course you don't."

"There's no point in drinking any more," Laurel scolded him, this time like an angry mother, "or taking that stuff you're always hunting around for. We haven't got time for that sort of shit... what if the Governor had come, Merle, right then? You wouldn't have been able to protect yourself, never mind the group-"

"Who says I care about that bunch of-?"

"Oh, _stop,_" Laurel told him coldly, "stop all this crap, acting like you couldn't care less about anyone here- these people are your_ friends,_ Merle... or at least they could be, if you'd drop the bullshit and just let it happen. You can't afford not to have friends in a world like this." Laurel gave him a moment to respond to that, but he didn't. "We need_ you, _Merle," she continued, "not some drunken louse who can't even stand up straight, never mind drive a car or use a gun. If the Governor had come right then, when you were drowning in ever-clear and dragging me up corridors, we'd have both been dead, do you see that? You need to start_ thinking._"_  
_

"That's never been something I'm good at," Merle murmured.

"Get good at it," Laurel replied sternly. She stood up then, trying to work away the bout of pins and needles that had engulfed her right leg, and Merle watched her as she hobbled about.

_"_We need you," Laurel added; she paused a moment then, looking away from him once more and breathing quietly, "_I_ need you."

Merle was taken a back a little at that; hell, this shit had really effected her, he could see it now. And he could see that she'd forgive him for it, that she wouldn't hate him because of what he'd done to her, getting pissed out of his mind and putting her in danger, not only from Walkers and potentially the Governor but from himself. They were lucky, he realized. He had put them both in that situation, and it was only by circumstance that they had both come out of it undamaged._ Just lucky._

"Sorry, darlin'," he drawled eventually, looking away from her. She stopped in her tracks, glanced over at him and whispered,

"Yeah... I know you are."

She moved back to him then, slowly wrapped her arms about his neck and gave him a quick, tight squeeze, as though there needed to be some contact to affirm her honesty, like it would only be concrete if plastered with a physical cement. She sat back on the bench, releasing him from the hug, and smiled up at the tired sky with weary eyes. He felt her arm wrap around the top of his own and shuffled along a little so that she fell closer against him; slowly she turned her head into the crook of his neck and sat there with him, smiling a little to herself. He brushed his knuckles down her arm, nose level with her shoulder, and breathed heavily, smelling the stale cigarette smoke in her hair from when she'd come up to the guard tower yesterday; the scent of the lemon juice she'd spritzed through her hair hid beneath the ashy tones, peeking through timidly- Merle buried his face there a moment to smell it better, breathing in the yellow scent and closing his eyes.

"We'll be alright," she reassured someone... maybe it was him, maybe it was herself; maybe the words were just for the sky, shattered above them, the fragmented pieces of cloud and colour slowly beginning to fit back together again.

**~oOo~**

"Mother of God," Merle harped half an hour later, once the two had re-entered the cell block and gone their separate ways once more; Axel was coming in from outside, a razor in his hand... and his top lip bare.

"What happened to the caterpillar, Ax?" Merle asked, surprised the man had parted with his fuzzy friend, "did she get sick of ya and crawl away?"

"You look so different!" Laurel breathed in shock- he was barely recognizable, despite the minimal changes that he had made.

Axel had undergone a transformation since the last time the group has seen him- his gaunt face was clean-shaven, his tawny hair scraped back and his black shirt buttoned almost to the top, selves rolled to his elbows. Axel straightened the edge and mused brightly, "gotta make an effort if you wanna get anywhere."

Merle remembered the conversation the two of them had been part of yesterday, about Michonne.

"Well, hope she appreciates all this extra effort you're goin' to for her. _RIP Axel's 'tache, forever in our memories._"

"Who?" Laurel asked, and Merle leaned closer to her as Axel moved on through the cells, trying his best to ignore the bandage on her arm that kept making him feel guilty for reasons he didn't quite understand.

"Ax's got his sights set on Michonne. Reckons he can make her fall for all his charms."

"_Michonne?!_" Laurel whispered back quickly- the idea was completely absurd. "Do you really think Michonne would-?"

"Well... you never know," Merle tried, "maybe she's into skinny strawberry-blonde white boys with criminal records as long as a donkey's dick-"

"-_Lovely_ expression," Laurel imputed with an eyebrow raised, and Merle smirked,

"Well, I've always had a way with words. Comes with growin' up round the mountains, you hear all sorts from them lovely folks back home."

"Move over, Shakespeare," Laurel drawled sarcastically. There was a silence between the two for a long moment until eventually Laurel piped up.

"I found a yellow dress in one of the bags today."

Merle smiled at the obscurity of what she'd just said- all the shit that was going on, and she was thinking about dresses. Maybe that's what he liked about her, that she let the nice little things have importance as well as the big horrid ones.

"Well, that is nice," Merle mused. "Impractical, but... nice, I suppose."

"Yeah," she smiled passively. Merle didn't know what to say to her then, thrown by her strange attitude, but the responsibility was alleviated from him as Carol poked her head around the door.

"You pair fancy giving us a hand moving this desk?" she called; the pair nodded and the four of them took a corner each, dragging the heavy piece of furniture out of the cell block with great effort.

"There we go," Laurel breathed, heaving a sigh as she released the Jacobin desk, which was now destined to become another bullet shield. "It's a shame," she noted, stroking a hand across the granite wood, "it's a nice desk."

"The bullet holes'll give it character," Merle smirked.

"Mahogany. Would have been worth a fortune," Carol noted and Daryl piped up, 'Yeah, let's all mourn the desk." He kicked the thing with a strike of his leg and commented, "Thing's strong- should hold up well when the cyclops comes."

"It'll make getting to the trucks easier if we have to make a quick escape," Carol nodded, placing a gun down behind the new defense and brushing her hands down her shirt. "Come on, let's get back inside. It's getting dark."

"We'll stay out," Merle rebuked, "C'mon, Daryl, we'll take watch. Can't be dealin' with sittin' in there with all these coots' for another night solid-"

"I'm goin' in," Daryl told him.

"What, you takin' your orders from a woman now?"

Laurel scoffed under her breath- Merle ignored her, watching as Daryl made his way inside after Carol.

"Pansy," Merle seethed under his breath, and Laurel gave him a hard look.

"Come on," she ordered, "get in."

He resisted for a moment, but after another stare from the girl- and the pang of guilt when he saw her bandaged up arm waving him over again- Merle followed after her.

"Whose taking their orders from a woman now?" Laurel smirked as he came up beside her, and he gave a catatonic laugh under his breath, flicking her in the side of the head and holding the door open for her.

"Chivalry isn't dead," she commented, mock-bowing graciously as she passed him.

"Just get inside," Merle smirked, kneeing her in the back of the leg as she went.

**~oOo~**

The group sat about the cells, chatting across them as the night drew in. Everyone had avoided talking about what Rick had informed them of; that the Governor wanted war. Beth discreetly re-bandaged Laurel's cut in her cell, peeling away the cloths of dried blood, singing quietly beneath her breath as she worked, her light voice humming through the cells. **(*) **Carl sat on the floor in the cell with the two, munching on a half-tin of sweet canned peaches which peppered the air with their fragrant smell, and listening as Beth hummed away at her song quietley.

_"I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,_  
_you were talking so brave and so sweet…"_

"You said you're sorry yet?" Daryl asked his brother in a hushed voice as he approached where he stood, leaving Carol in the doorway of the cell they had been sat in together, where Judith was sleeping in Carol's arms.

"Yeah, I did," Merle told his brother quietly, shuffling over so that Daryl had space to stand beside him.

"What did she say?"

"...She was alright about it," Merle sighed. "Knows I didn't mean it... all is forgiven, I think."

"And... what about when you were drunk?"

"Talked to her about that, too- I think we're alright."

_"You told me again you preferred handsome men,_  
_but for me you would make an exception..."_

"Don't do any shit like that again, man. No more gettin' pissed or high or anythin' else, at least until this shit with Woodbury is over. You need to say sorry to Glenn, as well-"

"No way, one apology is enough for today. Little bastard deserved what he got, any how."

"Don't be such a douche bag-"

"It ain't happenin', little brother," Merle said with a dark finality, "Just ain't."

_"I don't mean to suggest that I loved you the best,_  
_I can't keep track of each fallen robin,_  
_I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,_  
_that's all, I don't even think of you that often."_

A light pettering of applause danced through the cell block, accompanied by the yawns of tired souls and the sleepy moans of Alvi, held tightly in Glenn's arms. Glenn watched Merle, and brought his hand up to the ring of bruising around his neck; he had heard the threads of their drawled conversation from his own cell. He didn't expect an apology, and he didn't want one either. Daryl's brother or not, Glenn wanted nothing to do with this man, and knew that, deep down, nothing was ever going to change Merle Dixon. _Keep out of each others way,_ he advised himself. Rick wasn't going to kick him out because of Daryl; Daryl would never leave his brother out there on his own, regardless of what it meant loosing.

Laurel looked over to Merle and gave him a little smile, tucking her sliced arm underneath her shirt. The wound still stung a little, but it was nowhere near as painful as it had been earlier. He gave her a cautious wink, settling down in the firelight and closing his eyes, breathing in the smell of the burning candles and the perfume of peaches, the thought of grey eyes and yellow dresses on his mind.

**AN: Well guys, hope my singing didn't deafen you too much. **** won't be quitting the day job (not that I have one) any time soon.******** Hurray for this chapter! Hurray for Lerle! ****Please review if you enjoyed, dearies! :D **

**********And I just have to say OHMYFUDGINGFUDGE I REACHED 200 REVIEWS ON MY BATMAN FIC HOW DID THIS HAPPEN MY FEELS OH I LOVE THE PEOPLE OF THE WORLD **

_**********Oh, and for those of you who missed last chapter:**_

**********~oOo~**

_**-OC Oppertunities-**_

_**TIME TO GET INTERACTIVE! **__**I'm quite ahead in my writing at the moment, guys, and have reached a point where new minor characters will be being introduced- If anyone has an OC they would like to see involved in the story, or wants to make one up on the spot, please fill out the form below and post it in the reviews; I'd be very grateful for it! :**_

_Name:_

_Age:_

_Gender:_

_Appearance:_

_Personality:_

_Skills:_

_Strengths:_

_Weaknesses:_

_Family members:_

_Relationships (romantic and/or friendships) with canon/ other OC characters:_

_Other:_

_**You can submit more than one OC if you so wish, so feel free to do so!**_


	32. Chapter 32: Last Time

**Chapter Thirty-Three:**

**Last Time**

"It's the only way," Rick explained, having told Daryl about the plan to deliver Michonne to the Governor. He had listened intently, but did not look entirely sure about the malicious plan. "No one else knows."

"You gonna tell 'em?" Daryl asked, and Rick shook his head briskly, hand on hip hip.

"Not till after... we have to do it today, It has to be... quiet."

"You got a plan?"

"We tell her we need to talk. Away from the others."

Daryl shook his head, leaning a little closer to his friend.

"Just ain't us, man-"

"No," rick confirmed sadly, "no, it isn't. But we do this, we avoid a fight, no one else dies."

"...Okay."

"We need someone else," Rick suggested, and Daryl nodded understandingly.

"I'll talk to him-"

"I'll do it."

"...I'll go with you-"

- No," Rick said with a confident finality. "Just me."

**~oOo~**

"You won't find anything," Laurel told Merle scoldingly, as he moved his hand under the lining of another mattress. She'd floated in here about ten minutes ago, wearing the loose yellow dress she had mentioned to him which fell just above her knees, with a pair of black leggings beneath them, interrupting him in his never-ending quest- he'd tried to hide the fact at first, but the shredded sheets had quickly given away that he was after a high again.

"You keep tellin' me that, but I think I'll take my chances."

"I hope you fail miserably," Laurel taunted, and Merle pulled a face at her. He thought of telling her to piss off, go and do something useful with her time instead of bothering him; but he liked having her there, even if she was throwing him digs and disappointed looks. She's had nightmares again last night, panicked by all the shit they new was coming and the memories of the kid's ma, so he sat up with her and she'd just listened a while whilst he talked to her about growing up in the mountains- he left out the bad bits, didn't mention their old man or the way Ma had died- he didn't like talkingabout that sort of shit, and he figured she wouldn't want to hear, anyway. She'd fingered the necklace with the wedding band around her neck and had sat with her head on his shoulder, laughing and smiling in all the right places.

"I thought you promised you wouldn't get drunk again," she said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

"Does It look like I'm searchin' for a drink?" Merle asked.

"It's practically the same thing," Laurel rebuked him, "you saw what happened last time you were off your head-"

"I wasn't gonna take it now- was gonna put it away, wait 'till things settle again and take some as a treat if we manage to get rid of this Governor bastard-"

"You promised."

Merle looked up at her then, saw the disapproving look in those grey eyes and the odd, pained way her face had contorted.

"Fine," he huffed, taking his hand outta the mattress. "Whatever you say, doll face."

Laurel smiled at him happily then, as footsteps began to ascend the steps, and Rick appeared outside the cell.

"Is that Bacon I smell cookin'?" Merle mocked as he saw the sheriff-hell, he looked a sight. Sweat seeping through his clothes, hair plastered against his face, so thick with stubble you could house a small family of birds. Looked nothing like that guy who had cuffed him up on that rooftop in Atlanta.

Laurel smiled up at Rick and he tried to recreate the gesture, asking,

"Could you give us a minute, Laurel?"

"Sure," Laurel quirped, standing awkwardly and making her way out of the cell. She nodded at the two as she began to descend the stairs; Rick waited until she was out of sight, then turned back to Merle. He nodded down at the shredded fabric; Merle shrugged.

"Just looking for a little vacation… best dope I ever had was in a mattress. Nothing, and I've been through quite a few up here. This place must have been no fun at all."  
Rick gave him a glowering look and shunted awkwardly, "we need your help."

Merle Laughed and raised an eyebrow. He licked his lips and looked out at Rick as he stepped in the doorway of the cell; Rick stared back at the man, so full of bullshit and angst and hotheadedness, and thought to himself;

_no wonder Daryl was the way he was, being raised by a dumb as shit fool like this._

"Do you even know why you do the things you do?" Rick asked him shortly, "the choices you make?"

Rick heard footsteps outside, and stepped a little closer to Merle.

"…If we give the Governor Michonne, Woodbury stands down."

Merle stood up, interested, and beckoned him to continue.

"I don't like it, but it's what needs to be done. We need to make it quiet- we need your help with that."

"You ain't told any of the others, huh?" Merle asked, looking Rick up and down.

"Just Hershel, Daryl- and you."  
"Hm," Merle smirked, "the inner circle. I'm honored."  
Merle leant his arm up against the wall and gave Rick a hard stare. "You know, when we'd go out on runs, he'd bash somebody's skull, slash somebody's throat, and he'd say, 'Never waste a bullet.' I always thought it was just an excuse."

Rick stared at him closely, and Merle leaned nearer him.

"You go on," Merle told Rick, "give him that girl. He ain't gonna kill her, you know- he's just gonna… do things to her. Probably take out one of her eyes; both of 'em, most likely. You'd let that happen... for a shot?"

Rick didn't falter his gaze. Merle shook his head in what rested somewhere between disbelief, disappointment and downright bemusement.

"You're cold as ice, Officer Friendly."

Rick lowered his eyes, but didn't reply. "You're gonna need wire," Merle advised, recognizing that Rick was serious in this- or at least he thought he was. "Not rope, wire. Nothing she could chew through." Merle pulled his lips tight and scoffed, "you know something? You're right. I don't know why I do the things I do- never did. I'm a damn mystery to me… but I know you, Rick. Yeah, I thought a lot about you. You ain't got the spine for it."

Rick seemed to get stuck on his words a second; he leant back and rushed, "we need to get her to the Governor by noon."

He walked away quickly, feet clattering on the flimsy staircase, and Merle stared after him. He shook his head quickly, and disappeared back inside the dark cell.

**~oOo~**

Daryl had tried talking with Glenn about the problems between them; Glenn was adamant that no solution could be found to settle the friction between Merle and himself. It was Maggie, he'd said; Glenn couldn't forgive Merle for what had happened to Maggie. Daryl understood it, but he wished it wasn't true.

"Merle?" Daryl called as he made his way down the corridor to the storage room where the medicine cabinets were kept, along with shelves full of other pointless brick-a-brack.

" …You down here? ...Merle!"

Daryl raised his crossbow. Merle knew not to go messing around in the tombs; they hadn't checked them properly, hadn't spread out too far yet, not past the library anyway- if Merle had gone off on one again he could have disturbed the Walkers lurking down here... _had one of them got out and come up?_ Daryl sprung into the room to find his big brother leant over a counter top, rooting through the shelves; Merle turned to Daryl with a passive smile.

"Hey, little brother."

"What the hell?" Daryl slurred suspiciously; something funny must be going on. This was Merle, after all. It was either gonna be funny business or no business at all.

"I was just about to holler back at ya."

"What you doin' down here?"

Merle shrugged. "Just lookin' for a little Crystal, man." Daryl gave him a heavy, disapproving look. "Yeah, yeah, I know- shit messed my life up. And everythin's goin' so sweet, right?"

Daryl shook his head, but decided not to scold his big brother over the matter; Merle never listened to him, anyway.

"…You talk to Rick yet?"

"Yeah, oh, yeah- I'm in. But, uh…he ain't got the stomach for it… he's gonna buckle, you know that, right?"

"…Yeah." Daryl shrugged then- he was lost on what to do with Michonne. He knew it wasn't right- they all knew it wasn't right- but was she worth more than the lives of the people here? His friends, the babies, his brother… Carol? It was a small price to pay to keep them all safe, as difficult a price as it was. …"If he does, he does."

"You want him to?"

Daryl shrugged again. "Whatever he says goes."

Merle swallowed something back, something which made the Dixon inside him growl.

"Do you even possess a pair of balls, little brother? Are they even attached?" Daryl backed up, hating these scoldings his brother was so good at dealing out. Always managed to make him feel like shit whenever he disagreed with something Daryl had done, before and after the apocalypse. "I mean, if they are, they belong to you? You used to call people like that _sheep._ What happened to you?"

"…What happened with _you?_" Daryl retorted, "…and Glenn and… Maggie?"

"I've done worse," Merle told him coldly, a thick stare in his eye. "You need to grow up," he scolded his younger brother, "things are different now. Your people look at me like I'm the devil- grabbing up those lovebirds like that, huh? Now y'all want to do the same damn thing I did- snatch someone up and deliver them to the Governor. Just like me... yeah. People do what they gotta do, or they _die._"

"Can't do things without people anymore, man."

"Maybe these people need somebody like me around, huh? Do their dirty work. The bad , maybe that's how it is now, huh? How's that hit ya?" Merle watched his brother, teasing a response out of him with sharp words and hot criticism.

"I just want my brother back," Daryl told him with a soft edge, that made Merle think of the little boy lay in bed, crying for his big brother in the middle of the night because his big brother was too hard to let any tears out himself. Merle shook his head, turning back to the counter.

"…Get out of here, man."

**~oOo~**

It wasn't long before Merle's search was interrupted again by footsteps on the concrete floor; he went to call out, tell them to piss off, but when he saw that it was Laurel who emerged past the doors, he realized he didn't mind company as much.

"What are you doing?" Laurel called sharply as she crept into the room, walking up behind Merle as he peeled the plastic from the telephone wire he had acquired. He turned to her with a purposeful smile and asked, with what he must have thought to be innocence,

"What are _you_ doin'?"

"Looking for the library," Laurel told him, "Beth said it was through this way..."

"Next door across," Merle instructed, waving his bladed arm in the door's direction. Laurel took a step towards the door he had pointed to, but, sensing something was not quite right, she turned back to Merle suspiciously.

"So... what_ are _you doing?" Laurel asked him. Merle raised his eyebrows at her with a cruel smile.

"I was just uh... just lookin' for the library too, Cher," he spouted, the sarcasm a veil beneath his soft Southern voice.

"You're looking for drugs again, aren't you." The way she said it stopped it even being a question.

"Just searchin' for a little Hot Ice, that's all," Merle shrugged, looking back to the badly placed shelves, arm on the counter-top to push away the stripped wire- He'd rather have her think he was pinning for a high than have her find out what he was actually doing. She looked at him questioningly- clearly her repertoire of street names wasn't as vast as his own.

"Meth," he explained, moving his hand over a couple more shelves to strengthen his back story.

Laurel gave him a stern look. "What does that crap even do for you, anyway?"

Merle swallowed- talking about it was bringing on his cravings again. "Not much," he explained, "first few weeks you take it, you go thin as a beanpole- not a pretty sight- and just wanna get down and dirty with everything you see. Then there's the nausea. Again- not pretty."

"Then _why_ would you want to take it?" Laurel asked hopelessly, turning her hands out in a dramatic gesture.

"Can't help it," Merle shrugged, smiling a little at the theatricality in her movements. "You're hooked pretty much from the first hit- it's some strong shit, Old Crystal. They take it outta pills for fatties, boil it down, and- Wham! You got yourself some Meth."

"So is that what you did before all this then?" Laurel asked, kicking her legs up and sitting on the counter opposite him, "just sat around off your head on God knows what?"

"No," Merle answered with a wry smile, admiring her cheek. "I sold, too. 'Fore that I was in the forces a while, 'till I knocked five of one of the little nom-coms' teeth outta his skull."

"How come?!"

"…Was pissin' me off. Sick of his dumb-ass orders bein' screamed down my ear. One day he told me to do somethin' or other- can't even remember what it was. I said to him, _"You got a problem? Bring it on if you're man enough- take it up the damn chain of command or you can kiss my lily-white ass._" He didn't like that, so took a swing for me, and I just- _pow!_- clocked him up the face. Told him to take it up to the top guys if he had a real problem, and woe betide he did. And there I was, sixteen months in, before they kicked me out on my ass. Got back in with some bad guys back home then, Hell's Angels wannabes and pricks so mean you wouldn't believe..."

Laurel shook her head with a little smile. "Not a very good role model, are we, Mr. Dixon?"

"Ain't nobody lookin' up to old Merle," he grinned. "Now, Cher, you gonna give me a hand findin' somethin' to smoke or are ya pissin' off to the library to cry your way through some... hell, I dunno... ain't you girls supposed to be all into faggy vampires and that sorta crap?" Merle brushed his hand through the back of the nearest shelf- he may as well actually look for a hit seeing as he was here.

"No thanks," Laurel yawned, "not exactly my cup of tea."

"Well, whatever floats your boat, darlin'."

"...Come on, stop it now. You promised me you wouldn't take anything else."

Merle took his hand from the back of the shelf and turned to look at her.

"Taking that stuff won't make your problems go away," Laurel advised him, sitting down on the counter opposite him to show she intended upon staying, at least until she was successful in her vendetta against his previous drug addictions. She'd told him this more than once now, and Merle shrugged at it.

"Who said I've got any problems?" Merle questioned, turning back to the shelf- she reached her arm over to him and grabbed at the sleeve of his black shirt, turning him back around with a look that asked him to listen to her, a look which demanded his full attention and would settle for nothing else. He skimmed his eyes over her body and gave it to her, staring back at her with a smile, inviting her to say whatever it was she felt she needed to.

Laurel told him honestly, "let's face it... none of us know how long we've got left anymore. The Governor could come and shoot us all dead, Walkers could get in- It's horrible and it scares the hell out of me, but it's real, and I understand that now. Nothing is guaranteed since this all started, and I don't want you wasting life on drugs and alcohol and being out of your mind."

Merle looked at her- how was it that, only when the world was ready to cave in on it's self and kiss his ass goodbye, he'd come across someone like this- so infuriatingly forgiving of what he kept on doing to her, messing her up over and over, still so incorrupted by what was out there? She was passive and she was lovely and yet she was somehow his- she cared, she actually _cared_ whether he lived or died, whether or not he was wasting his life away. He'd only ever got that kind of an attitude from his own blood, from Daryl and no-one else in the whole damn world.

"Life isn't expendable anymore," Laurel concluded. "...I just don't want you just wasting yours."

Merle kept his eyes on her still, then down at the bandaged up cut on her arm. _You did that,_ he reminded himself, and felt something within him lurch.

"And am I wasting my time now?" He asked her with a smile, reaching his hand back to the shelf of medical supplies. Laurel tilted her head to the side as to consider his question and eventually concluded, "looking for drugs- a definite yes."

Merle sighed then- despite whatever had been going on with the two of them, she was gonna hate him after today- that he knew. Once she found out what he was gonna do with that black woman- _Michonne,_ he told himself- he doubted she'd ever want to talk to him again, despite how forgiving and sweet she'd been to him so far; how the hell he had ever managed to get something so sweet and good to want him there, he didn't know, but he was glad for it, even if it could be gone by nightfall the next day; what he was gonna do was a terrible thing, he knew that. But it had to be done, weren't no getting around it. Rick would throw his balls in the air and pussy out of it, Daryl would shake his head and go along with whatever the Sheriff had planned- he wasn't gonna do that. Giving that woman over was the only way to save himself, his little brother, this girl- Maybe she wouldn't wanna go near him, wouldn't want to see his face, but in time she'd understand. He was going to do what was necessary to protect the group, to protect Daryl- to protect _her-_ Even if it killed him, which he realized it may well do... Governor wanted him dead, and chances were he'd have a go at it the second he gave Michonne over.

Merle looked at Laurel then, realizing this time in here might be the last time he'd see her. He drank in her presence, the effervescent energy about her, her yellow hair and her short mouth and her long body, everything that made her the way she was; this perfect little thing that he had come across at the end of everything.

_Just go for it, Dixon,_ Merle's head told him then, brushing away the sorrow that enveloped his mind.

_Probably gonna die anyway._

So, with that thought on his mind he stepped forwards to her, leant into her face and let his fingers weave into her thick cream hair. Laurel shifted a little uncertainly, looking up at him with those inquisitive grey eyes.

"How about now?" he drawled, voice choked by nicotine- Laurel smiled at him, looking as though she were lost for words. She opened her mouth to say something, and before the sound could escape her lips, he let his own against them sharply.

**AN: ****THERE IT IS **

**WOOOO YEAHH**

** KISS TIME, MOFOS**

**As if a fourteen chapter long day wasn't enough, we have to wait 32 to get anywhere close to anything that even constitutes romance (romance? Merle... somehow I think no). I'm still not sure if it feels a little too soon... what do you guys think?**

**Hmm, now will this petter out? How will Laurel react? Why am I asking you when I already know the answer? Is it a reverse tactic to make you as the reader ask those questions yourself? Have I just blown the cover of my literary device by exposing it's purpose to the world? Am I taking this too far? YES. YES I AM. I'll stop now.**

**OR WILL I-?!**

**All my love and other assorted aboteries,**

**Wizadora x**


	33. Chapter 33: Gone

_**AN: **_**_OVER 200 reviews_**

_**ARE **__**YOU**_

_**DUCKING**_

_**KIDDING ME**_

_**HOW**_

_**HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!**_

_**MY FEELS**_

_**GUH**_

_**I LOVE YOU**_

_**YES, YOU, RANDOM IMP**_

**Chapter Thirty-Four:**

**Gone**

_Merle looked at Laurel, realizing this time in here might be the last he'd see of her. He drank in her presence, the effervescent energy about her, the yellow hair and her short mouth and her long body, everything that made her the way she was; this perfect little thing that he had come across at the end of everything._

Just go for it, Dixon,_ Merle's head told him then, brushing away the sorrow that enveloped his mind._

Probably gonna die anyway.

_So, with that thought on his mind he stepped forwards to her, leant into her face and let his fingers weave into her thick cream hair. Laurel shifted a little uncertainly, looking up at him with those inquisitive grey eyes._

_"How about now?" he drawled, voice choked by nicotine- Laurel smiled at him, looking as though she were lost for words. She opened her lips to say something, and before the sound could escape her lips, he let his own against them sharply._

Laurel jolted a little at first, as though she'd been caught completely unaware, but after a couple more seconds Merle felt the tension leave her and, slowly, she began to kiss him back. Merle grinned inwardly, and let his tongue push up through his lips and through her own- she stopped again for a second as though she'd hit a traffic light, and he pulled back a little; he watched her for a moment, her eyes wide with something he couldn't quite put his finger on, then pressed his tongue back against her lips, and this time she kissed him back. He found himself smiling, his bad arm now wrapped up against the back of her waist; he pulled her closer and opened up his eyes a second to see what she was doing with her own, and found that they were closed shut. Merle laughed through his teeth and leaned deeper into the kiss.

He let his arm travel underneath her thigh so that he could hold her closer against him, his waist in between her knees as she sat up on the counter-top. She moved her leg so that he felt it pressed against his side, and her white arm came around the back of his neck; Merle heard her give a little sigh that usually would have driven him wild-

S_hould _have driven him wild, should have had him pulling the clothes off her so fast she wouldn't even notice the breeze; yet over his instincts came a horrible thought which jumbled through his head, a thought he'd been repressing every time he looked at her body, every time he watched those pink lips and wondered how they might taste-

_Just a kid._

Despite the angelic charm she was carrying and those curves his hand could feel now through her clothes, she was still only seventeen; _not even legal, for fuck's sake._ She was clean and she was delicate, understanding so much yet knowing hardly anything at all. He felt suddenly like a vampire or a parasite, draining the life out of something pure, or like a little kid at Christmas who manages to break a toy that hasn't even been taken out of the packaging yet. He knew he had to, knew he should break this off, but something more animalistic within him fought against the attrititious idea flicking at his brain; he felt like this was his reward, his prize for keeping his hand off her so long, and he didn't want to give this up; Merle held her there a moment longer, as long as he dared, tasting her mouth and kissing at her delicate lips; then,with a vicious reluctance he pulled away, taking his hand off of her firm neck and using it to hold her at a straight distance from himself, feeling he may otherwise be inclined to pull her right back.

"What is it?" Laurel asked quickly, completely flustered, her face a warm pink as her hand flinched up against his shirt.

"Just..."

She looked at him with wide doe eyes, confused and flustered, those bitten-down lips red as rose. _Jesus, she was perfect._

"Just ain't right," Merle drawled aloud, shaking his head- God, he hated that it wasn't, because on the surface it felt like the most right thing in the world, the only thing that had made any sense to him in months.

"What do you mean?" Laurel asked uneasily, looking away from him, "did I-?"

"No, Cher," Merle told her, almost laughing, "no, you didn't do nothin' wrong. You're perfect- too damn perfect, that's the problem. Just look at ya..."

Laurel blushed even more, her hand still around his neck. Realizing in a flurry that it was still there she moved it quickly away, and he grabbed her wrist as she did so, holding her arm about his neck.

"No need for that," he told her softly, still craving the contact despite having shrugged her off; hell if he didn't wanna just dive straight back into those lips, let his hand ride underneath that strained button-press shirt and then dive a little lower. He stayed as close as he possibly could stand, the sent of stale cigarettes and the lemon in her hair lingering, though he couldn't find a distinction between which of them smelt of each.

"Don't think it's cuz I don't wanna be here with ya, darlin'…" Merle said quietly, breathing into her hair- a little of it tickled his face and he closed his eyes, listening to her quickened breathing and feeling the heat from her skin. Y_ou wanna do way more than that_, he told himself in his head. _Still could, if you're quick about it- no one would be none the wiser down here._ He told himself quickly to stop thinking that way, but it was hard not to when she was right here in front of him. Merle continued, "...but stuff like that, it's just… not okay."

He tried to think of a way to phrase it to her that didn't go somewhere along the lines of,

'_I wanna jump your bones, sweetheart, and you wrapped up around me with your lips on my face ain't exactly dousin' those flames.' _

...Somehow he didn't think that would go town too well.

"I'm a man, sweetheart," he tried instead, "In spite of all your girly rose-tinted glasses shit, I know you get what that means, don'tcha? ...All I'm sayin' is that sneaky kissin' down in the meds office shit is all good and fine, but eventually it's gonna get to more than that... you understandin' what I'm tryin' to tell ya? I can't promise I won't be wantin' more. I don't want you doin' nothin' you're gonna regret just cuz I've lead you into it, and I don't wanna have to deal with havin' done somethin' like that when you didn't really want it, either, or weren't ready for it... you get where I'm comin' from?"

"Yeah," Laurel nodded, bright pink now, "I... I get it."

"Good," he said, pressing his lips against her forehead. Hell, this was hard. He looked at her face, the weak smile she tried to put on which didn't quite reach her eyes. He'd tasted those sweet lips and couldn't see much harm in tasting them again, just once more before he told her to back off- maybe make it out that all this was just her, that she'd imagined it all. Could be dead by the end of the day anyway- get one last taste of heaven before heaven closed its gates. Merle pressed his lips against her own and she leaned closer to him, hand back on his shoulder, the two holding each other there as though there was not enough air in the room. He let go of her as quickly as he could bare to, taking a step away and sitting beside her on the unit.

She placed her hand upon his own; she was freezing cold, only her face flushed with what could have been embarrassment or something a little less negative, which was a shock to his hot skin. Slowly he turned the palm of his hand upwards, and let her fingers fall back against the rough skin there; neither of them said a word, until he gradually closed his fingers around hers. Laurel felt her stomach knot gently. Having him there made her feel… safe.

The two sat there, hands touching as their skin temperatures reached equilibrium. Merle found himself looking again at those inquisitive, young eyes. The exchange of heat was comforting, and slowly, Laurel leant her head up against him, just beneath his neck.

"Is this okay?" she asked carefully, closing her eyes a little.

"Yeah," he said, breathing hard and squeezing her hand tighter for a moment. "Yeah, that's okay."

**~oOo~**

Merle moved up through the cell block, face set in stone and ready to do what needed to be done. He'd walked Laurel down to the library and had left her there, fobbing her off with some story about helping the others. As he opened up the door to the courtyard, he took a deep breath.

_If you don't do this, no-one will,_ he told himself.

"Hey man," Merle called over to Axel, who was stood at the foot of one of the guard towers with his head in his hands, "you seen 'Chonne around?"

"Aw hell, don't remind me," Axel said, shaking his head and leaning against the stairwell.

"What's up?" Merle asked, sidetracked by the prospect of hearing the cause of Axel's turmoil. Axel rolled his shoulders uncomfortably and tried, "well... I thought I'd go talk to her, like we said I ought, y'know?" he began, "thought, 'hey, I've brushed up, shaved off old Mary-'"

"_'Mary'_? You named your 'tache?"

"Yes I did," Axel mused, "my pride and joy. Sacrificed her for a chance with that woman, went over there happy as Larry, tried talkin' with her and she gave me a look like me head was on fire and I was tryin' to douse it by pissin' in my own face. Never seen a woman look so horrified in all my days, and I've scared a fair few."

Merle couldn't help but laugh a little, and said to Axel, "don't worry about it, man. Plenty more fish in the sea."

"Not anymore," Axel drawled. "'Sides, I think I'm one of them fish that all the others swim around to avoid, y'know?"

"Someone'll come along," Merle continued, though he didn't believe it for a second.

"It's alright for you," Axel laughed, "you've got that little blonde thing nippin' at your heels like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. What have I got? A cold bed and a draft on my top lip."

"Mary'll grow back," Merle reassured him with a grin.

"Yeah," Axel agreed. "She's the only woman I'll ever need- how's about you and that girl, then? That gettin' anywhere?"

Merle remembered earlier, closed his eyes for a second and felt his fingers in Laurel's hair again, her legs about his waist and her lips against his skin. He breathed in the imprint, not wanting it to fade, yet it did so, until there was nothing in his mind but the blur of her yellow dress, those warm grey eyes and the scent of the smoked lemon in her hair.

"Ain't too bad," Merle said eventually, She's a good kid. But- ain't never gonna go no-where, is it? It's not like I can do anythin' with her- she's still a kid and I'm too old, even I know that."

"Age don't matter no more," Axel mused, nudging his pal in the arm, "things are different now, we old men can take our chances and people ain't gonna give us as many funny looks as they woulda done before the world curled up and expired. Besides, she's a big girl, she can make her own decisions, can't she?"

"Well, I ain't exactly the best decision she could make, am I?" Merle stated. "Besides- we'll probably all be dead tomorrow-"

"So enjoy it why you can," Axel prodded him, "live in the moment. Enjoy what you've got while it's still there to be enjoyed."

"...She don't know all the things I've done, man. Wouldn't like me if she knew what I'd done." Merle thought of some of the things that had gone down on raids, the people he'd killed.

"Ignorance is bliss, ain't that the sayin'?"

Merle laughed at that. "Yeah, well then she must be the happiest kid alive." Merle bowed his head and continued, "even the stuff she does know, she treats it like I wasn't the one who did it, like that was someone else- and like it doesn't matter to her. She doesn't get that I ain't a nice guy, or if she does, she's willin' to ignore it."

Axel didn't know what to say to that. "Well, man... we've all done bad things, things we're gon' regret for the rest of our lives, no matter how short they might be... but if we've got people here, if there's a person who's willing to forgive all the bad we've done... well, maybe we oughten be questionin' it. Maybe we should just be happy for it."

_Does that kid make you happy? _Merle thought to himself- he thought of Laurel's quick eyes and her broad smile, the way her hair was always all over the place and the way she held that body she was sporting. That stupid way she moved about the place, always twirling through the doorways or making her expressions more theatrical than they need be; the way she could cool him down or heat him up with no more than a look and a few words. And how he always felt like a mean son of a bitch when he knew he'd upset her. All that, and he'd known her- what, a week at most? Maybe even less than that... he was never one to count the days. So yeah, even though she made him feel like shit sometimes, got him riled and angry and annoyed at the way she was able to just brush everything off, file it away and pretend like he hadn't ripped her arm open, like he hadn't pinned her up and scared the living daylights out of her, like he hadn't told her and her friend that they were putting themselves out to be raped- she knew all that, and more, and yet she still talked to him like he was her friend, still smiled and laughed with him. All those little moments- her laughing with him over the meaning of his name, when they'd sat together that morning just telling each other crap stories from home, the way she'd seen fit to tell him about the dress she was wearing today- when he thought of those, they did make him smile, though he wasn't sure why. And when he thought of kissing her again, of feeling her skin against his, her pulse quicker beneath the skin of her , she made him a damn sight happier than he'd been in a long time.

Merle saw Michonne in the distance and Axel fled up the stairs in embarrassment; Michonne was on er way back in from where the rest of the group had were laying out picks around the furthest fence to burst Woodbury's tires should they make an appearance. He pulled himself around the wall a moment.

_Just do it- are you a Dixon, or are you a pussy? Man the fuck up._

"'Chonne," Merle called over at the woman once he'd gathered himself; she turned with a scowl, and he raised his hand in a gesture of peace, the wire hidden away in his back pocket. "Couple of walkers have got in through the tombs at the back there, down past the library- we gotta sort it out."

Michonne shook her head, watching Merle with mistrusting eyes. "We should tell Rick."

"He's out- c'mon. We gotta sort this, now, then we'll get 'em up here to help barricade it off. There ain't many of 'em, if that's what you're scared of."

"I'm not _'scared'_," Michonne drawled, grabbing the handle of her katana and moving past him, through the corridor which led to the library passageways.

"Let's get this over with."

Merle followed after her, catching a glimpse of Laurel's yellow dress from the library's open door as they passed it.

**~oOo~**

A quarter of an hour later, it was done; Merle wrapped the wire tightly around Michonne's dark wrists, securing it firmly and letting the rest of the wire to trail off as a leash. She lay face down, unconscious from the blow he had dealt to the back of her head. Merle opened up the duffle bag he'd brought with him in search of the duct tape, but as he reached in for it he heard footsteps at the end of the corridor.

"...Hello?" called a voice-_ ah, for the love of God._ It was Laurel, again, her footsteps at the mouth of the opening down into the tomb they were in. _What the hell does she want? _

"Merle? Are you still down here?" Merle could see her shadow emerging on the long stretch of wall to his right, so sprang quickly to his feet, dropping the duct tape and clambouring quickly up the corridor.

"Hey darlin'," Merle smiled smugly as he appeared around the corner; she looked flustered.

"Merle," she breathed with clear relief, blushing after the events of earlier on and smiling a little, "...Gosh, I thought Walkers had got in, or the Governor and his guys-"

"Everythin's fine, darlin'," Merle reassured her, grabbing her by the shoulders and leading her back into the medical storage room which split off into the library and the corridors. Laurel smiled at him, watching his lips as he spoke without realizing it; something clicked in her head and she questioned,

"How come you were down there?"

"...Thought I'd check it for Walkers," Merle drawled quickly, head burning as he tried to think of a way to get rid of her before Michonne awoke, "scout it out down there, make it safer. I'd better get back down there and keep goin'-"

"Don't be mad, you shouldn't be doing that by yourself!" Laurel cried, "I'll come with you-"

"No offense, but fat lot of good you'll be down there, sweetheart... tell you what, why don't you go down and get Daryl or one of the others for me-"

"Wasn't Michonne with you? I swear I heard her a while back from the library."

Merle froze then, not knowing how to continue. From down the corridor the unconscious woman gave a husky groan, and Laurel's acuteness raised sharply.

"What was that?" She asked, moving carefully to the corridor- Merle grabbed her arm.

"Nothin', sweetheart. You better be gettin' back-"

"Was that Michonne?"

"-dangerous down here-"

"Is she alright?!" Laurel tried to step forward again, and he pushed her back. Laurel reeled at the gesture, surprised by his firmness.

"She's fine," he snapped coldly. "Now you get back- there's still guns to move, that outer fence needs working on-"

"Something's up," Laurel sussed, "you wouldn't be acting like this if it wasn't-"

"Like what?!"

"Like- _this!" _she called, eyeing him suspiciously. "Let me go down there and have a look if there's nothing funny going on-"

Merle shoved her back then, briskly by the shoulders. "What, you don't trust me?!"

"Oddly enough, _no,_" Laurel snapped, "just tell me what's going on!"

Merle closed his eyes then- this wasn't how he'd wanted to end it. He'd of been happy to leave it like it'd had been earlier, kissing her, sitting down here with her next to him, just breathing her in; and now here they were, screaming at each other in a corridor with that woman unconscious just a few feet away. There was nothing else he could do- if he didn't do something now,_ right now,_ she was gonna find out, ruin all of this- Michonne would be up on her feet and would shove her sword through him before he even had a chance to say _'I can explain...!'_

So with a heavy breath, Merle turned to Laurel and breathed,

"Sorry 'bout this, darlin'."

"...About what-?"

With a sharp jolt Merle span her around, hand sharply over her mouth, feeling her grab at his arm in panic- she squirmed, trying to shout out at him beneath hid hand, and as quickly as possible he struck her flailing form over the back of her yellow head with the butt of his bayonet. She went limp in his grip, falling against his forearm, and he sighed heavily, loosening his hold a little so that her head rocked into the crook of his elbow.

"Sorry," he breathed again, bending down and resting her unconscious body up by the counter where he had kissed her earlier, her head tilted peacefully on her bare shoulder. He watched her a moment longer, tucking a thread of that unruly golden hair from her heavy face, then stood and turned back to the corridor, grabbing the abandoned duct tape and strapping it quickly over Michonne's stirring mouth.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered to himself, grabbing her by the ankle and dragging her limp form out of the cell block.

**AN: MERLE NOOO DON'T DO IT**

**WE'VE SEEN THE SHOW, WE KNOW WHAT HAPPENS IF-**

*******Troll face***

**************A big hello to our newest readers, including Crimson Eyes, Mrs Tiddle Mouse, Tech Thus, Ripped Jeans, Kiwichan and Crystal! **

******Thanks so much for all your support, guys- can't believe 'Imprisoned' has got so far :') The fact we've got over 100 reviews is amazing, never mind over 200! OH MY LIFE! I've got some alternative scenes and endings goodies for those of you who/ in the future review on a regular basis and/or help me out with various story-related bits and bobs as a special thank you, but those will come alot later on ;) Once again, thanks guys- you're awesome!**

******Also, ********I have mentally started calling readers 'Imps'... so if that crops up anywhere, you know i'm just having a mental mind slip XD**

**************Have a spantabulous day, and please review if you have the time! :D**


	34. Chapter 34: Traitor

_**AN: You know the saying, 's**t hits the fan?'**_

_**Yeah... this chapter is pretty much the epitome. The beginning of s**t getting real. Very, VERY real.**_

**Chapter Thirty-Five:**

**Traitor**

Laurel lumbered back through the corridors to the main cell block, head pounding wildly as she hobbled through in her yellow dress. She couldn't believe or understand what had just happened.

The first person she found was Daryl; she called to him, sauntering over, and he saw how disorientated she looked.

"What's up?" he asked, had moving to her shoulder as she struggled with her bearings,"you alright? ...Laurel?"

"It's Merle," Laurel drawled, rubbing the back of her bruised head, "he was down in the tombs, just knocked me unconscious- he had Michonne down there, now they're gone-"

"Shit!" Daryl hissed, running outside.

"What's going on?!" Laurel called after him, standing motionless in the cell block. She looked to the floor, eyes welling-_ oh, hell._

Daryl ran, and it didn't take long to find where Rick was.

"We've got a problem," Daryl shouted over to him, "Merle's took Michonne- they're gone."

**~oOo~**

"I'm being straight with you," Merle told Michonne as they trecked the long road to the farming silos, hand gripped around the telephone wire.

"You seemed straight when you led me into the tombs," she drawled unenthusiastically.

"Okay," Merle admitted, "maybe I wasn't straight-"

"-You put a bag over my head-!"

"-I got it _done._ He wouldn't have. C'mon, keep moving… he was a guy that came back for me on that rooftop- nah. It's all on me. You know, I figure that's why I was back there in the first place- do the dirty work."

A lumbering Walker growled quickly at Merle, snapping it's remaining teeth hungrily. Merle laughed and reached for Michonne's blade, slung over his shoulder. He bowed graciously to the woman and asked,

"May I?"

Michonne didn't respond, just eyed him blankly.

"…I'll take that as a yes." Merle hacked the head off the creature with a quick spin of the katana, smiled down at the severed head and licked his lips with a laugh. "Oh!" he called fondly to Michonne, noting that she hadn't tried anything funny. "You know what, I figured you would have run."

"Wanted my sword back before I get away," Michonne smiled coldly. Merle laughed, throwing her a quick wink.

"Y'know, It may go down that way," he called mirthfully, "but if I were you, I wouldn't get my hopes up… move."

"Do you believe in Karma?" Michonne asked Merle as the pair trecked further down the road.

"Hell, what is this, a philosophy lesson?"

"Well, do you or don't you?"

"I don't," Merle said firmly. "Bad people do bad things all the time- I've seen plenty of 'em, and they never get their comeuppance."

"You think you'll get of scott free for this? Giving me over to that psychopath, you think there won't be any repercussions?"

"...If there are, I'll let you know."

"You think Daryl will thank you? Rick? You'll be an outsider all over again-"

"Rick's the one who asked me to do it in the first place, God damn it," Merle told her. The woman shrugged.

"That might be true. But they won't thank you for it, regardless. And that girl, the one you spend so much time around- how do you think she'll feel about you when she finds out this?"

Merle thought quickly of Laurel then brushed her from his mind.

"She wouldn't like it," he admitted, "probably gonna hate me for it when it's done. but that doesn't matter... this is what they need, all of 'em, whether they like it or not."

"This is gonna hurt her," Michonne told him tenaciously.

"No," Merle said resiliently, "the Governor's gonna hurt her and his bastard army of bastards are gonna hurt her, unless they hurt_ you_ first. I care more about her than I care about you."

"You care more about her than you care about most," Michonne noted. "Maybe you're not so cold after all."

"Could have been your shot," Michonne breathed, "make things right- you had a good foot in the camp. Friends, people who cared about you- hell, I was eve starting to think maybe you weren't so bad after all. Could have been your shot," she repeated, "...that's all i'm saying."

"Yeah, well how about you stop '_sayin'_."

She was quiet for quite some time then, before asking,

"How about God? You believe in him?"

"'_Him?_" Merle mused, "nah. God's gotta be a woman, right? Only a vicious bitch would be so wrathful as to bring this shit upon us folks down here."

"Seriously."

"...Whatever he's doin' up there, he must have a damn strange sense of humor. You can ask him what he's been playing at, once the Gov's done doing whatever he's got planned-"

"You can ask him yourself if this all goes pear-shaped," Michonne noted, eyeing her sword.

"Yeah, I know that... well, any last requests, you be sure to let me know," Merle told her. "And I mean _any._ Give you the time of your life if you like, 'fore the one-eyed wonder takes you off."

"I'd rather just die," Michonne grinned sardonically, brushing off Merle's offer.

"Your loss," he shrugged with a smirk.

"Don't do this," Michonne said quickly, trying again to reach that part of him that felt guilt, the small part in him that she could see was at least a little effected by all of this, "we can just go back- think of Daryl, of Laurel, what would they say if-?"

"You keep rattlin' my cage like that, I'll kill you myself," Merle hissed at her defensively. He didn't wanna hear another word about his brother, nor that damn girl.

**~oOo~**

"I'll take the bike," Daryl said, jumping over the seat of the motorcycle and revving it up. "I've got a full tank, I'll find 'em quicker on this thing-"

"You be careful!" Carol called out to him. She had no idea why as of yet, but apparently Merle had taken Michonne. "Come home, safe. Don't be gone long, alright?"

"Alright," Daryl drawled, leaning low over the bike and saluting the group as he sped out of the gates. Carol held her breath as she watched him disappear over the horizon, praying the three would be back safe soon.

**~oOo~**

Another ten minutes went by, and the pair stopped at a row of small bungalow verandas; there was a silver-grey car parked outside, brittle and rusted by the year of neglect, but what looked to be the perfect vehicle for reaching the silos.

"All right, I think we're good," Merle decided, jogging up to one of the supporting columns of the houses and linking Michonne's wire around it.

"Yeah… we're _great._"

Michonne watched him as he worked- he secured the cord, looked up at her and blew her a taunting kiss as he moved over to the abandoned car. Merle forced the door open with a wire hook and found his way beneath the wheel, lying across the foot-wells and toying with the breaks in an attempt to hot-wire the vehicle. "Come on, baby-" the car gave a jittery purr then a growl. "Yeah… Yeah! That's the deal…"

Suddenly, the alarm triggered and began blaring out across the plain- practically a dinner bell to any Walker who might be near.

"Oh. shit!" Merle called hastily, plundering the circuits of the car in an attempt to break off the glaring sound.

**~oOo~**

Daryl heard the sudden blaze.

G_otta be them,_ he thought, leaning lower over the bike and roaring the engine, tearing down the highway in the direction of the alarm.

**~oOo~**

"_Merle!"_ Michonne roared over the noise of the car alarm, struggling with the wire and grappling with a Walker who had made her way close, "come on, Merle! Merle!"

"Okay, okay!" Merle cried, pulling hard at the wire beneath the hob, "shit's not easy when you only got one hand- ah, come on!" he spat desperately, but the alarm wouldn't shut down- the longer it blared, the more walkers began to emerge from the forests around the burnt-out building. As if by some miracle, Daryl tore around the corner on his bike; he parked the thing up against the side of the building, rolled from the vehicle and drew his bow from his shoulder, shooting and retrieving arrows as he made his way to where Michonne struggled, slicing the head off the Walker she'd wrangled with the wire tied about her neck. Daryl sliced through the cord with his pocket knife and pulled Michonne over to the car where Merle was- Daryl took out the walkers approaching the car as Merle continued to work at the alarm- eventually he triggered something which caused the incessant sound to cut out, and pulled himself straight, foot down on the peddle.

"In, now!" Merle roared, pulling himself up to the passenger's seat as Daryl bundled Michonne inside the vehicle and climbed in the front seat beside his brother. Daryl pulled the car quickly away, abandoning the sea of hungry beasts in their wake.

"You left my fucking bike!" Merle snapped quickly, and Daryl shouted back,

"I just saved your ass, I don't even get a thank you-?!"

"You left my _bike!"_

"Shut up! We've got more important things to worry about, we need to get back to the prison- besides, you're a right motorpsycho, only reason you ever revved the thing was to get a look from some girl who was too young for your ass anyway-!"

"Where you goin', boy?!" Merle roared quickly as Daryl spun the car on its heel and drove back through the Walkers.

"We're goin' home!" Daryl told him, "we can't do this and you know it, we ain't takin' Michonne to that fucking prick-!"

"Are you fucking_ kidding_ me?!" Merle howled at him, "Governor's gonna kill us all, boy! Turn ass around and let's get to these Silos before he decides he's sick of waiting and goes to the prison to shoot all those people you love so damn much!"

"It ain't right!" Daryl cried out, driving at full speed down the next road, "It ain't us, bro, you know that! We can't-!"

"It ain't you, but it is_ me,_" Merle scolded him, "that's why your Sheriff back there wanted me to get in on it- he knew I'd do it right, stop him havin' to take the guilt of givin' our Nubian queen back there over to that crazy rapist-murder-frenzy bastard everyone's so damn scared of."

"We ain't doin' it," Daryl cried. "...You alright, Michonne?"

From the back seat of the car Michonne stared at the two tensely- the brothers argued again as Daryl brought them up the next road, and quick as a wick, Michonne opened the side door and rolled out onto the plains below.

"What the fuck-?!" Daryl called, swerving in shock- from the rear mirror, he saw Michonne running out into the trees at the side of the terrain, clutching at a large, bloody gash at the top of her arm.

"Bitch!" Merle cried, taking hold of his rifle and pointing it at the woman through the open back door- he snapped the trigger, ignoring Daryl's cries, and there was a scream of pain as Merle lowered his gun.

"Son of a bitch, you shot her!" Daryl roared, stopping the car and preparing to get out, "how could you-!"

"It was only her leg, just slowin' her down a bit! She's the only chance we got, and it's a slim one at that!"

"No!" Daryl cried, "you vicious bastard! I'm goin' out to her-"

"We need to get her in this car then get to the silos," Merle barked, "I'll drive on up after her-"

"No!" Daryl called, "...no, you go back to the prison, get Hershel and I'll stay here, make sure she's alright-"

"If we don't take this woman_ right now _there won't be a prison to go back to!"

Merle saw Michonne's bleeding figure hobble to her feet, and the woman began to hide her way into the forest.

"No you don't, you crazy bitch," Merle hissed, snatching the wheel of Daryl and starting the car after her. "I ain't about to let our only chance of survivin' run off into the woods-!"

"She'll have a damn sight better chance out there than with _you!_" Daryl screeched.

"Pull over, boy, _now!_"

"Leave her," Daryl snapped, spurring the car onwards, "we'll go home- Michonne'll be alright, she'll get out of that wire and find somewhere to hold up the night, bandage her leg and we can come find her tomorrow when all this shit is sorted out-"

"There won't _be_ no tomorrow without Michonne!" Merle demanded, "I ain't gonna sit back and let all them folks die because of some stupid bitch- gimme that!" He grabbed hold of the wheel firmly.

"Get off, man!" Daryl roared, battling Merle away. His brother shoved his shoulder at Daryl and rammed into his side- the wheel spun, and before either brother could do a thing, the car veered off the highway, rammed into a streetlight and spun down the side-road ditch, flipping onto its side and crunching the front cage. The two Dixons lay unconscious in the upturned vehicle, neither moving into life as a mob of gurgling Walkers began to drag their crippled feet to the place where the brothers lay.

**~oOo~**

Michonne scraped in a rush through the darkening forest with an overpowering tenacity, arm cut open and bleeding from the fall out of the vehicle and the bullet she'd been delivered by Merle causing her great agony- she hobbled onwards regardless, biting back tears of acute pain. She had been moving for almost half an hour now, hands bound and without her blade, just trying her best to keep moving; with the Governor's price on her head, Michonne didn't know where to go- she hadn't found anything to release the bonds with, so had simply been following a straight path just inside of the forest foliage, trailing after a main road in the hope it would lead her to some man-made structure where she would be able to find something to get the ties off with, get some much-needed medical supplies to deal with this damn bullet. As the sky began to darken, she came across a nearby gated community- the gates had been wrangled open and Walkers had swarmed inside, but with stealth Michonne had managed to hide away inside the first house; she made her way to the kitchen and found a box of hardware underneath the sink, and managed to prize off the wire Merle had secured around her wrists, now bloodied and raw, with a pair of sharp pliers. Washing her leg, wrists and slashed arm and bandaging them up with kitchen roll, secured in place with a shredded kitchen towel. She did not know how to get the bullet out- it was agony, but there was nothing she could do about it. So, she washed the abrasion in salt water to clean it out and bandaged it up tightly with a torn tea towel.

She dreamed of sleep, but knew she had more pressing matters to attend to, things that were now or never- she knew where the Governor was_ right now_. She would go, she decided, follow down this road past those farming Silos Merle had mentioned, and she would end this. She would put a sword through the Governor's other eye, and then she would make her way back to the prison and settle her scores with Rick, Merle, any one else who had approved of this deal. She would end this, and maybe, for the first time in over a year, she would get a solid night's sleep at last.

**~oOo~**

The group had gathered about the outside courtyard, vests tied about their chests and helmets laid out on the tables in front of them; under the shelter of the caged far end courtyard area, they had seen it fit to bring out the babies and try to enjoy the last of the sun. As they waited nervously for the arrival of Rick, who had taken the afternoon to collect his thoughts whilst he checked all the defenses, the group looked silently amongst each other. Rick walked up from the far fence, having applied more ties to the broken gates, and stood amongst the people he had dedicated his life to protecting. He looked amongst all their faces, old and young, those he had known for over a year, others only a week. All looked back at him with inquisitive, worried eyes, waiting to hear the news of what was happening.

"When I met with the Governor," Rick began steadily, "he offered me a deal. He said- he said he would leave us alone if I gave him Michonne. And I was gonna do that to keep us safe- I changed my mind, but now Merle took Michonne to fulfill the deal and Daryl went to stop him and I don't know if it's too late."

The group looked horrified- no-one said a word. Hershel bowed his head and held tight to Beth's fingers, curled in his own. "I was wrong not to tell you," Rick continued, "and I'm sorry. What I said last year, that first night after the farm- it can't be like that…It can't. What we do, what we're willing to do, who we are, it's not my call. It can't be. I couldn't sacrifice one of us for the greater good because we are the greater good. We're the reason we're still here, not me. This is life and death. How you live, how you die- it isn't up to me. I'm not your Governor."

Rick breathed in heavily. "_We_ choose to go, _we_ choose to stay. We stick together, we vote. We can stay and fight- or we can go."

**~oOo~**

Michonne found herself nearing the agricultural silos- she veered around them, moving silently as she swept quickly through the grass, avoiding the disorientated Walkers around the area. The evening slugged on, darkness seething through into the atmosphere and, eventually, she found Woodbury. She recalled the curfew placed upon the town and realized those on watch would be the only ones still awake.

There were two watchers up on the wall- one a woman, the same woman who had given she and Andrea a tour about the town. _Karen,_ Michonne remembered, then looked to the other advocate; a boy in his late teens, who appeared to be hopelessly flirting with the woman atop the wall. Michonne listened as she frequently rejected his desperate advances, knowing the two to be distracted; she got a strong footing atop the first car making up the wall and found herself lying flat on the top wall less than a minute later, tears in her eyes from the strain the climb had put on the wound to her leg. She lay still as a serpent, just behind where the two stood arguing. Michonne knew what she would have to do now, and she was not happy with it; this woman had been relativity welcoming to her. But if she was a threat between Michonne enacting her vengeance of the Governor and eliminating him once and for all, there was no question; the woman would have to die. Michonne jumped up, grabbed the woman by the back of the head and snapped her neck without a moment's hesitation.

"Fucking hell!" the boy screamed as Michonne lunged at him, ready to take him next before he could shout out and alert any of the others; as she grabbed for his face he injured leg gave out, and she slipped down the side of the wall and on top of a car which was parked up on the inside of the wall- Michonne scraped herself from it, and saw that the boy was already reaching for his gun- she reached up and grabbed his ankle, pulling him down from the top of the wall and throwing him to the ground, leaving hid gun atop the wall- he scrambled to his feet, backing away from her with a dip to his stance, and she slipped from the car and ran towards the houses in a panic, filing away into the darkness of the gully ways between the houses- the boy did not follow, but shouted out, "there's someone here! Quick, everyone- someone's got in!"

**~oOo~**

The group were stunned into silence. Each of them moved about like ghosts, no-one having any words to say that might make this all okay. The plan to hand over Michonne had shocked the others; Hershel sat with his head in his hands, Rick held Judith to his chest. Alvi pulled absently at Axel's hair, his gurgling the only sound in the vicinity.

"What if they don't come back?" Beth asked eventually with a choked voice.

"They'll be back," Carol said reassuringly, struggling to believe it herself.

"Yeah," Laurel tried, "they're a tough bunch... Daryl would have found them by now. They're probably driving back right this minute."

"What if Merle's given her up?" Beth said, "it could be too late already-"

"We can only hope that it ain't," Rick intruded, trying his best to keep a clear head. Hershel pulled out his bible and rifled through it desperately, trying to find some philosophy that could comfort the group.

"'_we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.' _Second Corinthians four, sixteen to eighteen._"_

The group nodded, little comfort found in the words despite Hershel's heartfelt delivery. Carol reached out for Laurel's hand and squeezed it in her own; she took a deep breath and nodded along with the others.

**~oOo~**

Michonne had managed to break into the back window of the apartment where she and Andrea had been staying- she locked herself in one of the rooms of the home, having pushed a load of furniture against the door to hold them out- God, her leg was in agony; it was bleeding again from all of the activity, and she was feeling very light-headed. However, it seemed that there were others now occupying the apartment.

"We're not going to hurt you," a man called from the other side of the door, who had been trying to coax her out for around ten minutes now.

"They're coming," said a woman's voice, "Ben's told the Governor- he's on his way."

_No,_ Michonne thought, head against the wall. She found that she was crying now- this was hopeless. She should have waited until she was fit to move, not just dived in here through her rage and the adrenaline that had now left her.

"Who is she?" the man asked the woman, and she whispered,

"How should_ I_ know, Tyreese?"

"Sasha- what if she's hurt?"

"If she had nothing to hide, she wouldn't have locked herself in there," the woman defended. "Maybe she's one of those people from back at the prison?"

A door slammed open in the home and a thick voice barked,

"Where is she?!"

"In there," Ben husked, pointing to the door. Tyreese stepped before it and said, "hold on a second, there's not need to-"

"Move," said a voice that made Michonne's bones both boil and chill- she braced herself.

"Get that fucking door open!" Roared a different voice from the other side- Michonne stood up by the wooden frame, carefully perched behind the furniture she had secured against the doors; they had begun pushing their way inside and the furniture barricade was giving, so Michonne had knocked the head off of the tall lampshade in the corner and ripped off its wire; she braced herself by the door, exhausted from the journey and the agony of her injury, but with little choice than to stand firm and fight; she waited uneasily, tensing her muscles, as the furniture began to yield. Slowly an arm reached around the pine door- very much alive, co-ordinated and reaching for the door handle. Michonne drew away as the door was swung back- two men stood the other side. One turned to the other and hissed,

"That's that woman, ain't it-?"

"Yeah," said a voice from behind them, that of the boy Michonne had dragged from the wall, "she killed Karen then came after me, she's buggered my leg as well-!"

"Shut up a minute, Greeley!" Alan hissed, "Where's the Governor-?"

Michonne ran forwards despite the bullet in bedded her leg muscle, instinctively swinging the sheath of the lampshade at the men- both leaned away in alternative directions, and Michonne's pole came to a halt in mid-air; behind the two men stood another, the cold face of the man who had taken them in, bewitched Andrea with his meretricious calls of sanctuary, salvation, and who had sent Merle to kill her when she had rejected his falsehoods.

The arms of the two men, Alan and Shumpert, came up beneath Michonne's own, disarming her and holding her firmly there in her weak state; she tried to struggle, but the blood loss was at last taking it's toll on her weary body.

The Governor looked down at Michonne's leg, her ripped pants wet and sticking to her calf with the blood, leaking through the irritated make-shift bandages.

"Nasty wound you've got there. So this is how it is? They fail to deliver, then send you out here to kill me. What sportsmanship..."

The Governor yanked the lamp-stand free from her grip and threw it behing himself, giving her a cruel smile.

"Glad to see you back, Michonne. We've got a_ lot_ of catching up to do."

**~oOo~**

Merle opened up his eyes, head spinning wildly- as his vision returned and he remembered what had happened, he realized he was crushed up against the flipped side of the car, lying in the dark with blood leaking down over his eyelids. Merle touched his bruised fingers to the wet wound and pulled down the front mirror; he looked in the glass to see that the line of his hair was leaking with red.

"Daryl," he breathed in realization, and looked up to his baby brother, suspended in the air- and not moving.

"No…"

**AN: **

**THE HORROR  
);**

_**GOODBYE, CANON**_

_**WE'LL MISS YOU**_

**And a big thank you to everyone who has/ will/ takes the time to review, they make me so happy! It's such a beautiful moment waking up to read your reviews, I look forward to it more than I probably should :'D**

_**(And one more thing... we met Greeley for the first time this chapter. Huh, yeah... you guys are gonna LOVE Greeley...)**_


	35. Chapter 35: Clear

**************AN: **

**************Sorry if you got an alert for this chapter the other day, guys- I had some trouble with the upload. So, if you did read this one when it was briefley up, there's some added stuff in it now ;) Sorry about that, guys.**

**************MUSICAL CHAPTER (hardly seems appropriate for where we left off, but bare with me... it all ties together:**

************** watch?v=k7CNUOFtpEw _'Motorhead- Fast and Loose'_**

**************Get it up in youtube, kiddies, look out for this symbol** (*)************** then hit play when you see it.)**

_**************Enjoy this chapter... s**t hit the fan last time, and now it's flying off in all sorts of directions. **_

**Chapter Thirty-Six:**

**Clear**

_Merle opened up his eyes, head spinning wildly- as his vision returned and he realized what had just happened, he realized he was crushed up against the flipped side of the car, lying in the dark with blood leaking down over his eyelids. Merle touched his bruised fingers to the wet wound and pulled down the front mirror; he looked in the glass to see that the line of his hair was leaking with red. _

_"Daryl," he breathed in realization, and looked up to his baby brother, suspended in the air- and not moving._

_"No…"_

"Shit, no," Merle hissed, "Daryl?! Can you hear me, little brother?"

With no response, Merle reached up to touch Daryl's skin- it was cold, pale.

"No!" Merle howled, "Daryl, come on, man, don't you dare-!"

With a growl a Walker appeared up against the glass of Daryl's window- Merle saw several more emerging around the car, and cursed again.

"Daryl!" Merle roared, smacking his brother in the side- he reached up and touched his fingers to his brother's clammy neck.

"Don't you be dead," Merle hissed, pulling back his arm and undoing his seat-belt, turning himself so that he had better leverage. "Don't you be one of them, little brother, don't you dare."

A murmur passed through Daryl's lips, a muffled gurn that made Merle's chest tighten- he hosted his blade, bent a little at the tip by the force of the crash, and tried his best to ready himself. Daryl's eyes opened; Merle breathed a caught up sigh.

Clear.

_Thank God._

"You alright, little brother?" Merle called, still a little uncertainly.

"Ugh…Merle?"

"I'm here. Can you feel anythin'?"

"It hurts… it hurts real bad."

"Good," Merle told him, reaching out and clasping his hand about Daryl's forearm. "If it hurts, you're spine ain't broken. What's hurtin'?"

"My arm. My leg. And my head, my head really… Merle, we… we gotta get out," Daryl heaved, laxing into semi-consciousness again.

"I'm gonna have to take those bastards down," Merle noted, looking at the Walkers that had come about the outside of the car; there looked to be at least ten. "This ain't gonna be easy."

"I can't stay awake," Daryl struggled, grabbing at the belt across his chest.

"You gotta," Merle told him roughly, "don't you go passin' out on me, you pansy- I ain't carryin' your ass all the way back to that damn prison."

"It's dark," Daryl whispered, falling left and right.

"Yeah, it is," Merle drawled. "So you gotta stay awake, little brother, and we gotta move- now. Gov might be there at the prison right in this moment with his men, could be…" Merle thought of Laurel, what they could be doing to her; the thought made him sick.

"C'mon, Darlena," Merle growled, winding down the window manually a little and standing, leaning awkwardly across Daryl's chest- he groaned at the pain in his leg and Merle told him to shut up, stabbing his blade through the eye of the first Walker that reached in through the window.

**~oOo~**

"Martinez," Tyreese called over to the man, following him up the main street of Woodbury as he veered over to his own home from the warehouses at the back of the town, "can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Make it quick," Martinez called over his shoulder, and Tyreese said,

"What happened with that woman?"

"What _woman_?"

"The one who broke in our apartment- Alan and Shumpert took her with the Governor, she was injured, is she alright-?"

"I dunno, man," Martinez drawled dismissively, "why should you give a shit about her, anyway? She fucking killed Karen for God's sake, snapped her neck like it was nothing… bitch deserves whatever she gets."

"Caesar," Tyreese asked seriously, grabbing hold of his arm, "what's going on here? I need to know. Tell me- please."

Martinez shook his head- hell, this was a mess.

"Don't ask," he advised, shrugging Tyreese from him; Martinez opened up the door to his home and went inside, slamming the door after himself.

**~oOo~**

Merle wrapped his arm over Daryl's shoulder, carrying him up through the darkening woods- he had managed to slaughter all of the Walkers which had been upon them through the window of the car. A few roads away Merle found an abandoned Ford, smashed it's window and dumped Daryl's barely conscious form inside of the passenger's seat. With fingers metaphorically crossed, he attempted to hot-wire the vehicle, praying that the thing's alarm wouldn't start and draw in Walkers like the last vehicle had. The thing started like a dream, and Merle drove the car back towards their home.

As they neared the prison, Daryl wavered in and out of consciousness- Merle talked to him loudly as they drove, trying to keep him alert, but all he received in response was the odd groan or cough. Merle parked up outside the prison gates, jumped out of the car and began waving his arms about wildly.

"We've got movement!" Maggie shouted over to Glenn, who was sat in the opposing guard tower.

"Hold on a sec," shouted Axel from below, dressed now in full riot gear, "ain't that _Merle?_"

"Glenn raised the binoculars in his hands. "Yeah-"

"Where's Daryl?!" Maggie called out in panic, and Glenn answered, "he's by a car, but I can't see anyone in it- no sign of Michonne, either!"

"I'll go open up the gate!" Axel shouted, running for the first gates and unlocking them, then moving out to the outer-gates and opening them up, fiddling with the orange wire.

"Thanks the Gods you're back," Axel huffed, lifting the visor of his helmet, shattered from running the length of the field. "Where's Michonne? Your brother?"

"He's in the car, you gotta move quick, man, he's hurt pretty bad-!"

"What happened?"

"Car crashed, buggered up his leg and arms- come on, man, open the damn gate!"

Axel managed to release the rest of the wire whilst Merle scooped Daryl from his slouched seat in the car and brought him out.

"Here," Axel said, lifting Daryl by his other shoulder, "let's move."

"Walker!" Merle yelled as one drifted in from the herbage of the forest.

"I got it," Axel sang, whipping the baton from the belt of the riot suit he wore and swinging it at the beast- the thing was crushed to the ground by the force of the second blow, and Axel took to stomping in it's head with his steel-capped boot.

"Damn, that feels good," he breathed, reinstating himself at Daryl's side. "What about Michonne... did you give her to the Governor?"

"No," Merle said. Axel breathed a sigh of relief."No, she... she got away. Put a bullet in her leg, but she's out."

"Hell, I hope she's alright," Axel called with worry, re-wiring the outer fence, "why did you do it, man?"

"To save all of your asses!" Merle said with an abrupt ferocity, "no one else woulda done it, would they?! Bunch of pussies... I was doin' what needed to be done, 'till this clutz right here came along and threw a rock in the pool."

Daryl moaned beneath his breath; Axel and Merle quickened their pace, greeted at the door by Rick and Carol.

"Oh my God, Daryl!" Carol called, running to him and holding his face up with her hand, "what happened to him?!"

"Car crash," Merle recounted again, "stop your lubberin' and let's get him in to the old farmer so he can sort him the fuck out! Move!"

"Did you do it?" Rick asked in concern, and Merle shook his head as he brought Daryl into the cell block. "No, cuz this idiot turned up, she got away."

Rick didn't know how to react- he wanted Michonne safe, of course he did, but they all knew what was coming now.

Merle spotted Hershel and called out, "hey, old man! Come sort my brother out, pronto, he's phasin' out here! C'mon, we ain't got all damn day!"

"Where is he?!" roared a voice from the back of the room, and Merle turned to it; in a whirlwind of fire Laurel appeared at the top of the corridor; she marched through the cell block, eyes red with rage, charged in front of him and struck his face hard with her hand. Merle reeled a second, stunned by her deliverance and she screamed at him.

"Don't-!" she roared, smacking Merle in the chest with the palms of her hands in fury, hitting him over and over with each new syllable, "You- ever- do- that- again! What the _fuck _were you thinking?!"

"You wanna do this _now?! _Look, Cher-!"

Don't you_ 'Cher' _me!" Laurel roared, smacking him again- Merle grabbed her one wrist, pushing the other from him with the butt of his prosthetic.

"You're gonna wanna move outta my face, girl, 'fore I slap yours-"

"Don't you _dare._" Carol hissed, moving up beside him, and Merle backed off from Laurel a little. He turned back to the girl, looked her cold in her rage-filled face and drawled,

"Listen, dolly- my little brother's over there, bleedin' out, so how about you move the fuck aside and shut that damn mouth of yours for five seconds?!"

"Where's Michonne, what have you done with her?!"

"She's gone!"

"What have you _done,_ Merle?!"

"Nothin'!" he roared, squeezing her wrists so tight she couldn't break free. "She ran off," he explained to them all, sussing that Rick had told all of them their plan to hand the woman over to the Governor. "Daryl was drivin' the damn car, she jumped out the back and I said we should go after her- we got into a scrap and the car crashed."

"Get off me," Laurel demanded- he glowered at her a second, looking as though he might retaliate in some way, but instead let go of her wrists and shoved her away from himself with a tight glare. She returned it, backing off and going to see if Daryl was alright; he was up despite his half-delirious state, and was shouting something at Carol about needing to get outside, while she dizzied around him, desperately trying to make him calm down. Merle swept back over to his brother, scooping him under the arms and trying to make him calm down.

"War's comin', folks!" he hollered over his shoulder, "pack up your things, say goodbye to your beds, 'cuz we need to get the hell outta here _right now_ or we're dead!"

"Agreed... we need to get out sharpish, you follow me?!" Axel called to the group a little jumpily, rubbing at the place where his mustache used to be.

"No," Rick drawled hastily, "we stay here; if they come we'll shoot them out if we can-"

"You didn't hear me when I said _'out'_?!" Merle called, and Rick retorted,

"This is our home, we all hold it up here as long as we can... we've got the advantage; weapons, the riot gear, walls and fences-"

"If you get us all killed, It's on your ass!" Merle shouted back at him, though cocked his rifle all the same.

"We get the babies out," Glenn called, and Rick nodded at Hershel. The older man returned the gesture.

"I can shoot," Beth volunteered, knowing she would be put up with the job of caring for the young- Rick shook his head.

"No, I need you to go with your dad and the kids. Keep watch for the night- stay in the car, _all_ of ya, 'case of any Walkers. We'll come out and get you in the morning-"

"I'm staying," Carl cried out from the other side of the cell block, where he was scooping up weapons.

"No," Rick hollered, "you're goin'-"

"I'm staying-!"

"No, Carl!" Beth pleaded cleverly, "you have to come. We _need_ you. What one of the Governor's men strayed close-?!"

The boy nodded eventually, appeased by Beth's quick thinking, inverting his protection into that of the group.

"Get the babies," Maggie called, "I'll start up a vehicle for you- come on, Dad."

"Whoa whoa whoa, I don't think so, hop-a-long," Merle interrupted as Hershel stood from beside the delirious Daryl and went to follow his daughter outside, "you ain't goin' nowhere 'till you've sorted out my brother!"

"...He has concussion," Hershel diagnosed, "whiplash. As for his arm, I think it's sprained- his right leg, something similar. Everything else is just shock, bruising... cuts. He should be alright in a couple of days-"

"We ain't_ got_ a couple of days-!"

"Listen!" Hershel demanded, "now I'd suggest we take him in the car with us, but he won't stay in there- look at him, he's delirious."

Merle followed Hershel's advice- it was true. Daryl was utterly erratic, throwing his arms about as he screamed at Carol, demanding that he was fine and that he needed a gun, he needed to be out on watch because they were coming, _they were coming, they were coming..._

"Lock him up," Hershel said. "Just until this is over- lock him in one of the cells. He'll fall asleep in no time at all, once the adrenaline wears out- he's half-comatose already."

"No!" Merle rebounded, "what if that psycho does get in here, and what, we've locked my brother up in a fucking cage?! It's not gonna happen-!"

"He'll be a danger to you all if he stays out- look at him, he can't think straight! He's going to get in the way, get someone hurt-!"

"Ain't happenin', old man! Go on- you, Goldilocks, Sheriff Junior and the babes get out. Now, before he turns up and it's too damn late."

Those who were leaving to hide in the outskirts for the night walked around the back of the C block through the tombs and opened their way out into the D block's car park. They had been unable to use the main door as it was electrically powered, only operated by the Warden's key, and the prisoners had neither resource; the walk took ten minutes or so, and once they were there Laurel and Merle helped them in, loaded them into the car, adjusting the gates and checking the supplies as they prepared to hide out for the night.

"Get in," Merle instructed Laurel as she handed Alvi over to Beth.

"Rick said everyone stays," Laurel retorted, kissing the baby on the top of his dark head of hair, "I'm staying."

"I don't give a flying fuck what Rick says," Merle hollered, "you get your ass in that damn car, girl, and get out of here before the Governor comes and puts a bullet through your pretty little face."

"You can't tell me what to do," she breathed to him; Laurel slammed the car door, and Hershel revved the engine.

"Stay safe," Laurel muttered, squeezing Beth's hand through the window and waving the group away.

Hershel nodded and began driving out of the gate which Merle had already opened. Laurel proceeded to lock it again once the vehicle had passed through, and Merle glared at her with a cold stare.

"Don't you pull this shit," Merle said to her then, voice sparking with anger at her, "not today, not after all the shit I've been through-"

"Shit that was all your fault!" Laurel shouted at him then, her rage re-surfacing, "this was all _you,_ Merle! No-one _made_ you go out there with Michonne, no-one _made_ you get in that car and crash it, that was all _you_!"

"Yeah," Merle hissed, walking up to her with a contorted expression and causing her to back up a step as he breathed down into her face, "yeah, it was all me. And you know why? You know why I decided to go through with all that shit, decided to take that girl off the the Governor and let him have her? Because of _you._ Not for these people at this prison, not for myself, not even for Daryl. I did it for_ you,_ kid, because I know you can't fucking look after yourself-"

"I can look after my self just fine, don't you worry about me-!"

"Shut up and listen!" he snapped, driving her backwards into the locked fence, "you're gonna listen whether you like it or not, I don't give a shit if you don't wanna hear it. So shut your mouth and let me say what I gotta say."

Laurel looked at him then as he took a step closer; Laurel sensed a danger in his tone and stepped back a little, so that her back was against the wall. He put his arms either side of her head and said,

"Daryl can look after himself, whether or not i'm around, so I wasn't worryin' too much on that. The others here- they're alright folks for the most part, but I wouldn't be riskin' my own ass for the whole bunch of 'em just because it's the nice thing to do, you hear me? But you, kiddo... you ain't got no-one. You understand that? It's just _you,_ all alone against that whole damn world out there- no family, no nobody. Nobody 'cept _me._ You see anyone else out there willin' to do that for ya, risk their own damn lives for ya? So you got two options here- either you stick it out alone in this world, face whatever it throws at you without so much as a hand to hold, or ya let go of whatever moral compass is holdin' you up all high and mighty on that horse of yours and you summon up a big fucking _'thank you'_ for old Merle Dixon."

Laurel stared at him, stunned, not sure how to react in the slightest. His hand trailed down by her side, and he started to laugh.

"And you know what the sad thing is?" he breathed, holding her chin up now between his thumb and forefinger, smiling at her with a bemused, almost given-up expression, "I ain't got no-one but _you,_ either. Ain't that the saddest thing you ever heard... I don't know who to feel more sorry for."

Laurel touched her fingers cautiously to his face- she opened her lips to say something, and just as she did, the sound was drowned out by a there was a thunderous racket from outside the prison.

**~oOo~**

**(*)**

The group looked at each other in silence for a long moment before Maggie said,

"That's music."

"…Shit!" Rick called, something clicking in his mind, "Glenn, Axel, outside, _now!_"

**~oOo~**

"What the hell?" Merle called, raising his hand to eye level to get a better look at wherever the noise was coming from and stepping away from Laurel, her fingers falling from his cheek- he saw two vehicles tearing towards the side gate from the distance and yelled at Laurel,

"Down, now!"

She didn't need telling twice- Laurel dived behind the Jacobin desk, Merle swiftly behind her; the pair looked at each other wide-eyed, their scurmish quickly forgotten, and Merle suddenly said,

"That's my fucking Motorhead!"

"…What-?!"

"When we were at that store the day we picked up the beaner kid, that stereo I found, they nabbed it, remember?! They're playing my fucking Motorhead-!"

"Oh, so _what?!"_ Laurel shouted at him over the sound, "we've got bigger problems than-!"

"You don't get it, do ya?!" Merle cried at her over the escalating racket. "Well, you're gonna get it now-!"

"Get _what-?!_"

Suddenly the car crashed through the outer gate, veering around and slamming through the second fence, in the same block Laurel and Merle were packing guns into the truck in. Doors slammed open and Laurel grabbed Merle's hand, forgetting all their fight and angst at each other in her panic, suddenly petrified; he considered shooting over the top but realized they hadn't been seen yet, and there asses would be more at risk if he did something now- besides, they had no cover. So, instead, he brought the bayonet to his lips to serve as a silencing finger and squeezed Laurel's hand tightly back. She nodded, breathing heavily, pressing her head back against the back of the thick desk and shutting her eyes.

"Let's move," someone from Woodbury's side shouted over the roar of the metal music, "come on, _move!_"

Doors slammed, feet ran back to the hole in the fence and Laurel mouthed to Merle,

_What are they doing?_

_Drawin' in Walkers,_ Merle mouthed back, and Laurel's eyes widened. "I'm gonna run out and shut the CD player down before a ton of 'em come down on our asses," Merle hissed, "the others will be out in a minute, they'll have our backs-"

"You _can't!_ It's too dangerous-!"

"I'll be fine," Merle hissed, re-cocking his gun- he looked at Laurel, realized she was weaponless and dropped it into her lap. Before Laurel could say another word he had jumped out, head low, and had ran out to the vehicle.

Merle reached out for the door handle of the car and pulled sharply on it once-

_Locked._

_Ah, shit-_

Bullets suddenly rained over from opposite him, and Merle bent his head below the window of the car, looking underneath it to see a truck full of Woodbury's men, armed to the teeth and shooting wildly. A torrent of bullets shot out the car window, and Merle laughed quickly under his breath.

"Thanks."

He reached his arm up over the door frame cautiously, skin scratching against a remnant of glass, and opened up the door. He lay over the seat, head still low, and pushed the eject button of the disc player- the thing wheeled out of the system and the deafening music stopped- he snapped the thing between his fingers for good measure, threw it into the foot-well of the car and wondered how the hell he was going to get back to the truck, back to Laurel, without getting killed. He could hear Rick now, Daryl, all the others scrabbling behind the C block fences and balconies-

_Just make a run for it,_ he told himself, talking a deep breath. Shit, he didn't think he could do it. The chances of getting back over there alright-

"Merle?" Laurel called out quietly, her voice full of terror.

"I'm comin', sweetheart," Merle called over to her reassuringly, and it was the boost he needed to kick himself into gear, to get up and run for the truck.

The second he stood, the gunfire reigned down again- a bullet spat through the air, flew over the top of the vehicle and ripped through Merle Dixon's skin.

He dropped.

**AN: **

_******-The End-**_

******You see...**

******It was Laurel.**

******She was secretly a Woodbury resident all along, that all of this was a complex plan to infiltrate Rick's group and discover their defenses and plans, etc. Now she lets the Governor and his men in and they slaughter everyone. **

******LOL NOPE JK********  
**

**But seriously... I did start writing that as an alternative ending a loooooong time back, just as a bit of fun... psycho bitch Laurel was fun to write ;D Alternative goodies will be provided later!**

******************(just as a side note, could I just ask those of you who submitted an OC as a guest to give me some way of contacting you? Email, deviant art, ff account name, anything like that. thanks! Also, if anyone still wants to sumbit an OC, I'm still accepting, so feel free!)**

******************BUT MERLE**

**NOOOO**

**NOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

**NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

**WHO DAFQ SHOT MERLE**

**YOU JAMMY BASTARD**

*******************SHAKES FIST***

**********************D':**

**********************See you next chapter, folks!**


	36. Chapter 36: Bloodloss

**Chapter Thirty-Seven:**

**Blood Loss**

_Merle wondered how the hell he was going to get back to the truck, back to Laurel, without getting killed. He could hear Rick now, Daryl, all the others scrabbling behind the C block fences and balconies-_

_Just make a run for it, he told himself, talking a deep breath. Shit, he didn't think he could do it. The chances of getting back over there alright-_

_"Merle?" Laurel called out quietly, her voice full of terror._

_"I'm comin', sweetheart," Merle called over to her reassuringly, and it was the boost he needed to kick himself into gear, to get up and run for the truck._

_The second he stood, the gunfire reigned down again- a bullet spat through the air, flew over the top of the vehicle and ripped through Merle Dixon's skin._

_He dropped._

"Merle!" Laurel ran quickly across the court yard without a second thought, head lowered to dodge the bullets, and dived over to where the man lay. His body was covered in blood already, so much so that she couldn't see where the wound was- her head was pounding, set alight by her own screams, by Daryl's, by the deafening roar of the gunfire eclipsing them.

"Merle, no, no!" she cried, "Merle…!"

His lips moved and Laurel shook a sob of relief, laying her head for a quick moment against his chest in holy thanks, some of his blood getting caught up in her fringe-

and he _screamed._

"Oh, God!" Laurel shrieked- the sound was horrible, shocking and not one she expected could ever have come from Merle Dixon. "I'm so sorry…!" Laurel saw that the bullet had ripped through his shoulder, less than an inch from where arm met chest.

"We've gotta move!" she cried, "oh, Merle, we need to move…!"

"Get that door open!" Daryl barked as he charged for the gate, blindly aware of his surroundings and flooded with emotions he couldn't control, driven delirious by the shock of the car accident, limbs in agony, yet he moved onwards despite the fact he thought he might cripple to the floor through exhaustion at any moment.

"It's no use!" Axel told him, "that door there doesn't open, designed not to open without the Warden's key-"

"Then where's the fucking key?!" Daryl roared, swaying on his feet.

"It wouldn't open anyway!" Axel told him, grabbing him beneath his slumping shoulders to hold him upright, "it's one of the old electric ones- it would take ten minutes to walk all the way around there, time we don't have-!"

"-_Damn it!"_

Laurel bent down to Merle again, who was reeling on the floor, only half-conscious; she attempted to keep him calm and looked around for some route out they might find, but it was no use- he was too damn heavy, and she was too damn weak, and the only way back to the prison would be riddled with bullet holes. This side of the prison, the D block area, wasn't properly prepared for invasion; they hadn't even considered that they might need to defend this area, everything had been focused i their home block, C.

"...Jesus... what are ya doing?! just go, you stupid kid!" Merle blurted, pushing her off with his good arm, but she wouldn't listen. She could see already that Rick was on his way out, followed shortly by the half-conscious Daryl, who was still screaming abuse mindlessly at the dark where the Woodbury men were- from behind Glenn and Axel grabbed him, trying to make him go back inside; he tried to shake them off but was too weak in his current state. Daryl's eyes rolled in his skull a moment and his body slumped; the two men tried to haul him back inside, but he still resisted; a shower of bullets rained over the heads of the three, causing Axel and Glenn to throw Daryl to the ground with them. Daryl struggled to get up again, the Governor's men aiming at where he crouched, firing bullets over the back of their truck- Daryl was pulled firmly to the ground again, and Glenn and Axel held him there behind the protection of the self-created barriers and prepared to return fire, Axel shouting in his ear.

"Get offa me, man, that's my brother out there-!" Daryl squirmed weakly.

"Rick!" Laurel screamed out, "what do I do, I don't know what to do-!"

"Get down!" Rick screamed at Laurel, and she dropped lower to the floor behind the car as Glenn and Rick began shooting over the top at the Governor's men as the crossfire blistered the fencing around them.

Daryl struggled violently against Glenn and Axel, which was throwing their aim; one of the disturbed bullets ricocheted off the cap of the Governor's truck and hit one of his men in the spine. He dropped with a roar of agony, disturbing the others for a second, and Rick took the opportunity to try and disarm Daryl's mindless fury from behind the barricade.

"Calm it," he hissed at Daryl, "if you charge out there now they'll stick a bullet in your head!"

"They dun got my brother!" Daryl roared, lashing out at the grip of the others, "I ain't leavin' him-!"

"You're right, we ain't leaving them out there!" Rick spat, "but all you're gonna do is get yourself killed, and the rest of us-!"

Daryl was inconsolable, and proving a risk to himself and the others- Glenn knew the only way to sort this out was to silence him. He looked to Rick for conformation, but he was too distracted by the bullets flying left and right; Glenn turned as Carol opened up the door to the cell block. Crouched low, she looked as though she were coming to try and talk Daryl down; Glenn assumed that was her purpose and opened his mouth to shout out over Daryl's mindless screaming to her; sharply, and with no hesitation whatsoever, Carol struck Daryl across the back of the neck with the hilt of her gun, and his body went limp under Axel and Glenn's restraint.

"We need to get him inside," Carol instructed, "now."

"You get him back to the others," Rick affirmed to Axel and Carol, a little surprised by the woman's action but certainly pleased for it- "get him inside, sort him out somehow- then get straight back out here. Tell Maggie to go up into the right tower, we'll need a sniper-"

"No!" Glenn shouted quickly, looking wide-eyed at Rick.

"We need her," Rick shouted over the gun fire. Glenn stared a moment, then quickly nodded, taking to re-loading his gun.

Axel nodded at the two and began dragging Daryl's limp form back to the cell block.

Merle writhed against the back of the truck, listening to the bullets twanging off the metal less than a yard behind them and choking on the pain.

"You stupid- ah, shit!" he cried in agony, blood running down from his shoulder as Laurel pulled loose her over shirt and held it against his bleeding arm. The wound itself was small, but he was losing blood rapidly and hitting his head on the way down seemed to have done him quite a lot of damage.

"I'm fine," Merle muttered, and Laurel saw he was trying to get to his feet. "Look, I'm-"

"Keep _down!_" She shrieked at him, grabbing his bayonet arm and holding him there; Merle collapsed, his head reverberating off the side of the vehicle as he did so.

"It's- it's okay," Laurel said in panic, easing his head off the metal with adrenaline-sparked fingers and stroking her fingers down the side of his face, "we're gonna be alright- we... we just need to-"

"Should of stayed over there," Merle told her loudly, though he didn't have the energy to shout; he gritted his teeth through the pain and choked, "how many times- you stupid, stupid-"

"Just..." Laurel tried desperately, praying to God that Rick and the others would be able to figure out some way to open up the electric fence or get past the Governor's gunfire soon, "just sit, we'll- we'll sort you out, we just need to..."

What did they need to do? She had o idea. She was scared and she was shocked, her pulse thunderous beneath her pale skin; quickly she unhinged her gun and set a couple of bullets out over the top of the car blindly, being sure to keep her head lowered- _why are you bothering?!_ she thought, _you don't even know how to shoot this damn thing properly..._

But what else could she do? Soon enough the gun ran out of ammo, and she dived back down.

"Why'd you bother?" Merle asked her, affirming her own insecurities, "waste of bullets, you can't shoot for shit-"

"I'm trying my best!" She demanded, applying pressure to the wound again, and Merle gritted his teeth in pain.

"Go," he huffed, "I don't want you here... run around through that back gate and get on back to C, to the others, before you get that head blown off your shoulders-"

"I'm not leaving you-!"

"That shit ain't gonna float-!"

"Besides, it'd be no use," she interrupted him, "we can't move now anyway, the joining gate's locked, you know that- it'd take ages to run back to C through the tombs way, and they're shooting like crazy out there; hostile and friendly fire, if either of us get up we won't last five seconds. If we wait it'll be alright- we'll just wait it out until-"

"There ain't no _'waitin' it out'_," Merle told her, "you think they're just gonna sit over there ad wait until we all expire? They're comin'. Go on, now- I'll be alright," Merle winced, breathing deeply as he fought to keep his eyes open- his body was shutting down, ready to numb the agony in the only way it knew how- unconsciousness. If she didn't move, and quick, she was gonna get caught up in whatever was coming his way and there would be nothing he could do to stop it. "I'll be... _Fuck._.. alright..."

With that, the man's head rolled back on his heavy shoulder- Merle had passed out.

"No," Laurel screeched desperately, hands flaying with the blood flow still searing from his wound, "no, no, wake up, Merle! Come on, please, you can't-!"

Desperately, with no other method coming to mind, she smacked him up the side of the face in an attempt to revive him; it did nothing except add a flush of colour to his cold pale cheek.

"Get up, you big selfish bastard!" She screamed at him in a flustered panic, striking him again; Laurel gave a torrent of unintelligible noises as she pushed against the bleeding wound, Merle slumped up against the side of the heavy truck, the blood leaking down his limp arm.

The gunshots continued to sear through the dark air, skimming the top of the truck they sheltered behind and causing sparks to fly off the metal behind them; studs of pewter decorated the back defenses in a macabre fashion.

"Pull back!" Laurel heard someone cry, and the bullets seemed to stop from Woodbury's side.

"Holy shit," Rick breathed, looking out over the heads of the Woodbury crew- the blaring music of the invading car had begun to draw in Walkers, despite Merle's sacrificial effort to restrict it's impact. . The Governor's men slipped slowly and quietly to the side, allowing the seven who had gathered together in through the gate.

"Laurel!" Rick cried out, and she looked up in his direction desperately-

"Get back here, now!"

Laurel looked up over the top of the car and repressed a scream as she saw the advancing creatures.

"Merle!" She screamed, kicking him roughly in the side in an attempt to rouse him; he remained out cold.

Rick drove a bullet through a second Walker.

"I've only got five rounds left," he told Glenn quickly, "go, quick!"

Glenn ran up the catwalk, head lowered to avoid any sudden onslaught of bullets, and slammed open the outer door.

"We'll have to lock him in!" Maggie cried quickly, referring to Daryl, "he's woke up and he's going nuts-!"

"What?! I need you out there, I need your help- they've drawn in Walkers!" Glenn told her, "I need you and Carol up in the towers, now!"

"Maggie!" Carol called, grabbing tightly onto the back of Daryl's vest as he fought against Axel, whose top lip was bleeding profusely- it appeared Daryl had punched him, and not just once over. Glenn ran over quickly, and the four struggled with the inconsolable Daryl.

**~oOo~**

Back outside, Rick had taken out another of the Walkers, one which was just passing through the gate- he'd managed to hold them back from the truck so far, but he was down to only two bullets.

"Glenn!" He shouted back, but no response came from within the prison.

Laurel had reached down into Merle's pocket and pulled out his handgun- she didn't have time to count the rounds, but stood, terrified, and aimed the thing at the nearest Walker.

"Laurel!" Rick repeated, "get back behind that fence and lock yourself there, now!"

"I can't leave him!" She screamed out; the fifth Walker fell by Rick's hand, and Laurel stepped out a little closer to the nearest creature- it growled in her face, black blood dribbling down its chin, and she backed up a step before firing a bullet at it; the first missed, hitting the thing in the temple but doing no damage to its brain- Laurel backed up closer to the truck, covering Merle, and pulled the trigger again; this time the thing crumbled to the floor in a heap of twisted limbs.

"I'm out!" Rick shouted down at her, searching the floor around for one more bullet, "Jesus Christ, where the hell is Glenn?!"

"I got it!" Laurel cried, moving closer to the final Walker that had appeared and holding the gun up by its face- she got it within head shot, and pulled the trigger.

_Click._

"No," Laurel breathed at the weapon, pulling hard on the trigger again, "shit, shit, shit-! I'm out!" Laurel screamed out at Rick, backing away from the thing- it was grotesque, it's right arm chewed away into a stump and the flesh from the bottom half of its face motten and green with fungus, the skin of its left leg eaten. Laurel knew she must be near the truck by now, with Merle on its other side.

"What am I gonna do?!"

"Find a weapon!" Rick screamed down, jumping up and flicking out the knife in his pocket, running to the locked gate that the girl was trapped in front of. He jammed the knife in the lock, but it refused to give.

"There isn't one!" Laurel shouted, looking around the deserted courtyard in a panic- the thing was getting nearer, maledictioned by its twisted, eaten-away-at leg, but still nearing. It hadn't seen Merle yet, hidden out of sight behind the truck, and had its mashed eyes set on Laurel.

"Here!" Rick cried, pulling at the wires of the fence with his fingers- the fence refused to give, and only let up when Rick had pulled so hard the wires had sliced cuts into the tops of his calloused fingers. Quickly he pushed the blade through and handed it out to Laurel- she ran for it, grabbed hold of the knife and turned.

As she did so, the creature was upon her- a sudden burst of energy had overcome the rotting beast, surging it forwards; the thing grabbed hold of her wounded arm and pulled her to the ground. The knife flew from her grip, and Laurel pushed against the thing's forehead, remembering what Merle had taught her. It's exposed teeth gnashed hungrily as she held tight to its one scrabbling hand, holding the thing away from her and screaming. With no free hands, she could not reach for the blade which lay only a few feet away- with a forceful thrust she tried again to push the thing off of her, but it was no use. With no weapon and the gate locked, Rick could do nothing- he pulled desperately at the small hole in the wire he had created, cutting deeper into the skin of his hands, and shouted her name.

Laurel gave a final scream as the things face growled only inches from her own- she turned away, praying that it would be quick, keeping the pressure on the thing's face. Its rotted lips scraped her jaw and Laurel screamed.

Suddenly, the Walker dropped- it's face lay flat against the side of her own, the weight of its body pressing down on her. Unable to move through shock, Laurel lay there a moment, the swell of rotting flesh against her skin- she felt the weight lift from her, kicked aside. Laurel, eyes closed, felt a hand grab onto her own. She took it gratefully, a little delirious from the shock, and was pulled graciously to her feet.

"...Merle-?"

"Not Merle," called a voice in reply- Laurel realized it belonged to neither Merle or Rick, or anyone else at the prison. With weary eyes, Laurel looked - the person stood there, with one hand tightly clutched around her own and a bloodied katana in the other.

Laurel gave a sigh of relief, recognizing the blade- but as she followed its length, dripping with the dark red of long-dead blood, she saw that the hand holding onto the blade was not the dark hue of Michonne's- it was white and most definitely male. Come to think of it, as had been the voice... Laurel's eyes followed up the length of the arm until she reached the visage of the man who had saved her, a dark, compact eye patch over the left side of his face.

Laurel breathed in hard, the breath catching in her throat.

The Governor smiled.

**AN: NO GOVERNOR**  
**GET OUT**, **GO AWAY**, **YOU'RE NOT WELCOME IN THESE PARTS. YOU LEAVE LAUREL ALONE, GOD DAMN IT, AND KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MERLE, YOU ONE-EYED BASTARD**

**Guys, someone propositioned me as to whether or not i'd like to Beta for them- I am ashamed to say I have no idea what that means, might one of you delightful fellows enlighten me and perhaps prevent me looking like an idiot? :D**

**And for the person who asked, my fave day to upload is on Wednesday, around 9 pm UK time (hence today's upload!) traffic seems to be good for me on Wednesdays, but I know most writers say the opposite, that mid-week is a god-awful time to upload. Then again, this is a strange story- we've got lots of guest readers as opposed to those with accounts, and other weird thingys like that. I tend to get the most loveliest reviewers in the world reviewing when I upload on a Wednesday evening, which makes Wednesdays my fave upload day :') ****Hopefully some of y'all will pop up there tonight- **Thursday mornings are always lovely to wake up to, seeing that you guys are still enjoying it and I haven't failed you miserably- I hope to never fail you miserably D: I certainly hope I haven't failed you miserably today!

**Now I'm going to get in the shower, because quite frankly, I STINK.**

**All my love to those of you who aren't sociopaths murderers (I know my readers- at least a few of you are on that spectrum ;D), and have a wonderful tomorrow, whenever you're reading this! R&R if you can, it means the world!**


	37. Chapter 37: Out

_**AN: And the OC's begin to pop up, (some of them) making their first appearances, huzahh!**_

_**And wooo, 20,000 views, as if! Thanks guys!**_

**Chapter Thirty-Eight:**

**Out**

_With weary eyes, Laurel looked - the person stood there, with one hand tightly clutched around her own and a bloodied katana in the other._

_Laurel gave a sigh of relief, recognizing the blade- but as she followed its length, dripping with the dark red of long-dead blood, she saw that the hand holding onto the blade was not the dark hue of Michonne's- it was white and most definitely male. Laurel's eyes followed up the length of the arm until she reached the face of the man who had saved her, a dark, compact eye patch over the left side of his face._

_Laurel breathed in hard, the air catching in her throat._

_The Governor smiled._

Laurel pulled her hand away, but the man who had saved her from the hungry teeth of the Walker held onto her with a tenacious grip. Laurel pulled again, staring up at his eye with a horrified expression, and he gave a short laugh.

"Get off her," Rick said in a tight, controlled voice, bleeding hand wrapped tight against the wire fence. The Governor tilted his head to the man and gave another of his heated smiles, hand snagged around Laurel's wrist now, and let go of her in a gesture of good faith. At last Glenn appeared back on the catwalk, an armful of supplies with him and completely flushed; he stopped halfway up the passage as he observed the scene before him.

"...What is he doing here-?!"

"Where the _hell were you_?" Rick growled quickly; Glenn didn't reply, but raised a pair of wire cutters in his hands.

"You didn't stick to your deal, Rick," the Governor interrupted, taking a step closer to the webbed fence. The two stared harshly at each other, faces almost touching apart from the wire mesh between them, before Phillip continued, "I asked for Michonne. You agreed to deliver."

"How'd you get that?" Rick asked coldly, gesturing to the katana.

"Oh, this thing?" The Governor breathed, wiping some of the coagulated blood away with his fingers. "I just so happened to come across our mutual friend... seems she saw it fit to sneak back into Woodbury, came to finish the job. Not that you didn't know that already, I'm sure. I trusted you, Rick. I have to say- I'm disappointed."

"She alive?" Glenn asked.

"...For now."

Laurel backed up a step- she eyed the discarded knife on the ground carefully, and took a cautious step closer to it.

"We didn't send Michonne," Rick told the Governor. "Merle was bringing her to you, and she escaped. Whatever she did after that is of her own accord, nothing to do with me or my people.

"_'Your'_ people?" Phillip smirked, seeing something of himself in the other man. "Feels good, doesn't it. Having _people._"

"I didn't send Michonne-"

"You expect me to believe that?" Phillip asked, looking hurt. The expression made Rick want to punch his teeth in.

"You could ask him yourself," Rick drawled saltily, gesturing over to Merle, "If you hadn't saw fit to shoot him up like that."

The Governor looked over to Merle.

"Another disappointment," he groaned with a shake of his head. "Can't trust anyone these days." Out of the corner of his eye, Phillip saw Laurel reach down for the knife she had dropped- he kicked it away quickly, pulling the girl up straight by the hair and holding the katana blade to her neck. She gave a cry as he pulled her head straight, pressing her skin tighter against the cold metal.

"Point proven," the Governor affirmed, as Laurel fought using her free arm to get him off. "Save a person's life, and they still try and stab you in the back."

"Actually," Laurel choked with a strained breath and a sudden burst of courage, "I was thinking of going for your neck."

Phillip laughed, pressing the dirty blade a little deeper against her skin. Laurel winced, her fingers now wrapped around the blade, and tried her best to pull away- but to no avail.

"You know," the Governor drawled at Rick over Laurel's struggling head, "You're right; I _should_ talk to Merle. Get the old gang back together- me, him, Michonne. It'll be just like old times."

"No," Rick said coldly. "No. These are our people, you do _not_ just walk in here-"

"I was planning on just killing you all tonight," Phillip reasoned with a cold air, as though his change of mind were a kindness, "you should all count yourselves lucky that I've called it off. After that stunt with Michonne-"

"I told you, that wasn't us-"

"-I guess I'll just have to start small. Pick you off one by one, tear each one of you limb from limb... I think you'll appreciate that more, Rick. Watching these people suffer and die- the ones you love , the ones you care about-" he looked down at Merle then- "even those you don't care too much for. I suppose we'll start small, work our way up... one should be enough, I suppose, for failing to deliver."

"And what if I just shoot you in the head right now, huh?" Rick threatened, loading his glock with the rounds Glenn had retrieved.

"You could do that," the Governor proposed with a thoughtful look. "I wouldn't bet on the rest of your camp surviving if you went ahead with that plan, though- Martinez!"

As the Governor shouted the name, one of his henchmen appeared, armed to the teeth, three more of the broad men behind him. Rick recognized the first man from their meeting at the agriculture silos.

Another appeared through the group of men, a timid-looking man wearing glasses and a pale blazer, who seemed to have no place amongst the rest of these ruffians. "This needs to stop!" He called as he moved through the group, "Phillip, this has gone far enough- you said we were coming here to talk things over!" Milton demanded, "try and find a solution, rather than you killing them all-!"

"Get back to the car-"

"Just think about what you are doing-!"

The Governor raised his gun to Milton's chest and ordered,

"Back to the car."

Milton struggled with his convictions a moment, before backing away submissively; one of the other men directed him into the back of the truck, then went to deal with the Walkers who had been drawn in due to the music in the car.

"Grab Merle for me," the Governor instructed the henchman he'd originally called over. Martinez nodded, nudging one of the other soldiers; the two walked over to where Merle lay unconscious beside the truck and began to haul him under his arms to the opening entrance.

"No!" Laurel screeched from beneath the blade, "no, you can't just take him like this-! _Merle-!_"

"Drop it, Laurel," Rick warned on edge,

"No!" Laurel demanded, "I can't _leave_ him!"

"Well, if you insist, you can be our guest of honor," the Governor told her with a sardonic smile, sweeping the katana quickly from about her neck. "Greeley, if you wouldn't mind showing Cinderella to her carriage."

"Yes'sir."

A younger boy of around Laurel's age, perhaps a little older, stepped forward with a nod and grabbed the girl beneath the shoulder.

"Get off me!" Laurel demanded, shoving him away, and the kid backed off for a second- with a renewed gusto he grabbed her and pulled her back. She smacked him roughly up the face; the large-nosed boy growled and pulled at her again, a gun against the back of her neck.

"This is unnecessary!" Milton shouted over from his restrained position, standing up in the carriage of the truck, "it's madness! Let's end this, tonight-"

"Let us go!" Laurel demanded to the Governor, wincing at the weapon against her neck- he gave her another of those unnatural smiles.

"Get in the truck, please," he instructed. Laurel gave a cool, exasperated laugh and shook her head- Phillip raised the rifle across his shoulder up to her. The girl stared at the barrel of the thing with a gulp, a gun now at the front and back of her head, but still stood her ground. Better to just get shot now than whatever they'd do to her if she complied; with a small shake of the head, the Governor stared at Laurel for a long moment, figuring something out- he smiled a little, stepped back then cocked the weapon and took the few short steps over to where Merle lay. He crouched low, held the pistol against Merle's unconscious body, over his heart, and glared at Laurel. She faltered, gulping back air, and after what seemed to be an inward struggle she nodded a little, the metal grinding at the back of her neck as she allowed herself to be pulled back by the boy holding her.

"You can bunk up top with me," Greeley smirked, pushing her into the back of the open truck where the other men stood and sitting opposite her to ensure she could not escape, resting out his injured leg on the seat beside her. Laurel grimaced at him, staring out to where Merle was and trying her best to hear what was going on.

"Let's just talk about this," Rick tried roughly, but Phillip laughed.

"We _tried _talking," he recalled, "and look where that got us- we're done with talk. It's time for action. Try and get the message across to you and your friends some other way, I think."

Rick and Glenn shouted up against the fencing, slamming at the sealed lock of the metal gate; in a desperate attempt to get it open, Rick fired two rounds at the resilient lock. The defensive instrument took no damage bar a dent in its metallic surface, and he began to work angrily at the thing with the wire cutters, still shouting out at the Governor and his men.

"You broke your promise, Rick," The Governor hissed up against the bars, staring hard at his enemy with his good eye. "And now you've lost two more of your group because of it. Give Daryl my condolences- we'll make sure his brother gets a proper burial, don't you worry. The girl will get her dues, too."

"Rick!" Laurel shouted hopelessly, and Greeley made a threatening lunge for her and raised his hand in warning, daring her to try something. The rest of the Governor's men began to climb back into the truck, just under a dozen of them, packed so tightly that she was crushed between two of them- the one opposite her again made some sort of grab for her and Rick saw the girl push the man's hand away with an angered shriek- the truck erupted with teasing laughter and Laurel looked out over the side, directly at Rick, with wide, terrified eyes.

"You leave that girl," Rick rasped, "you ain't got no quarrel with her so leave her out-"

"It's not that simple and you know it," The Governor smarted. "See, I figure anyone who cares that much about a person- _Merle Dixon,_ of all people- well, there's got to be something mutual there, don't you think?"

"Whatever you're thinkin', you're _wrong-"_

"We'll see about that," Phillip smiled, turning on his heel and heading back for the truck.

"Don't follow us," he called over his shoulder, slipping back inside the front of the vehicle, smashing in the face of a passing Walker as he went, "You'll regret it if you do. We'll be back soon enough."

Glenn and Rick watched helplessly as Martinez and another henchman dragged Merle's unconscious form, bleeding heavily from the bullet wound in his upper arm; Rick grappled again with the wire cutters, this time going at the fence itself; Laurel protested over the side of the truck as Martinez and the other man struggled to throw Merle across the back seat of the truck, and the boy opposite grabbed hold of her face and pulled her back around, saying something to her which clearly offended the girl, as she shoved him away and smacked her hand against his chest defensively; Rick heard the boy shout something unintelligible at the girl, and she roared something quickly back with a venomous fervor. Martinez' hand struck the side of the truck twice in succession, and the vehicle began to pull away- Laurel looked back to Rick and Glenn with watery, haunted eyes, and the two stared back hopelessly, arms up against the stubborn gate, watching as the dark vehicle clouded away into the dust.

"Rick," Glenn breathed, "...what do we do?"

Rick stared at the empty road in shock, a completely blank expression on his darkly stubbled face. He didn't know- he just didn't know.

"...Rick?"

**~oOo~**

"Oi," Greeley called as the Woodbury truck tore up the baked road, trying to draw Laurel's attention and kicking her lightly in the shin when she didn't respond. He'd been purposely blowing smoke into her face for the last five minutes, and she was quite sick of him already. She avoided looking at him, and instead eyed the tiny lunets pinpointing the night sky with light- dim stars and abandoned satellites adding a fine glow to that of the half-crescent moon. She was struggling to comprehend what had just happened, her head was filled with so many worries and fears and so much confusion- the last thing she needed was this dick head on her case. However, the boy was quite persistent.

"How old are you, anyway?"

Laurel didn't answer, holding the neckline of her dress up to her shoulder in paranoia as she sat bent over, collar jutting forwards. Greeley kicked her again, rougher this time, and when it still yielded so response, he dug his fingers into the well behind her collar bone- Laurel hissed through her teeth at the pain, sitting straighter so that his fingers were pushed away from her.

"Why don't you just leave me the hell alone," Laurel suggested monotonously, trying to pretend he wasn't even there; the boy laughed.

"You're a real charmer, ain'tcha."

"...Could say the same about you."

"Yeah... you've got about as much charm as a floorboard," Greeley noted. "I asked you a question, you gonna answer it or-?"

"Who made you the fucking queen?!" Laurel spat quickly, angry and still in disbelief at her predicament, all her bottled emotion bursting for a moment. She restrained herself a little, lifting her head and glaring at him as she hurled, "world ends and suddenly you lot are kings of the castle so you can do anything you want, is that the little God complex you've got going on in your damn town-?!"

"Watch the way you're talkin'," Dean Gorman muttered from beside her. "Where I'm from, a guy caught you running your mouth like that and you'd be seeing the back of a hand up way too close pretty sharpish."

Laurel looked away in silence, opting not to speak.

"You still haven't answered my question," Greeley noted in a teasing tone, leaning his face closer to her.

"Go away."

Greeley smacked her in the side of her head, not hard enough for it to hurt- it was more degrading than painful, like watching a dog being kicked. Milton fought an inner battle.

"…Seventeen," she said in a choked whisper, barely audible, a little ashamed that she'd given in so easily.

"Then this could be interesting," Greeley smirked, rubbing a hand over the top of her head. She swatted him away quickly.

"Don't you touch me."

"Best get used to it," he smirked, "looks like we'll be doing a lot more than just touchin' ya-" he snaked his hand up Laurel's side teasingly; she managed to strike him roughly against the side of his face. The slap was immaterial, but Greeley still sought payback; he grabbed her by the hair and leant her torso over the side of the truck quickly so that she was held their at waist height, head barely off the ground; Laurel screamed, the rush of passing forests, stones and Walkers beneath her, and he hauled her back up. "Alright, no need to scream your fucking head off, you're still alive, aren't ya? Jesus."

"Get- _off-_ me-!"

"Shut up!"

"I- I think that's enough," the man who had protested the attack on the prison interrupted.

"Oh, calm your tits, Milton," Greeley mocked, hand still in Laurel's hair as she buckled against his grip, pulling her head down so that he was leaning over her, "we're just having a bit of fun, aren't we-?"

"Let her alone now, man," Dean Gorman told him firmly, "she's gonna get enough shit as it is later, let her have five minutes peace, why don't ya?"

"Oh, _come on,_ Dean, it's not like-"

"That's enough, you little prick," another of the men said firmly; the boy seemed more malleable to the blunt suggestion of this man, who was bigger in form and harder-looking than he; Greeley muttered something immaterial under his breath, something that might have even been an apology to the man, letting go of Laurel and slumping back in his seat on the bench. Laurel gave the three who had fought her corner a quick thankful yet weary look, and shrugged away from Greeley.

The truck span down the thin road over the motten ground for quite some time before there was any sign of life; as they approached Woodbury, Greeley grabbed Laurel by her collar- she fought against him as he pushed her to her knees in the space between the two of them, one hand muffling her screams of protest and the other in her hair, holding her head against his knee caps.

"What the fuck are you doing?" One of the other men asked, and Greeley replied,

"What, do you want the whole town knowing we go around kidnapping girls? If anyone sees- _or hears_- her, they're gonna be wondering who she is, why she's here and where the fuck she's gone when we kill her-"

"Who said we're going to kill her?" Dean called in an almost concerned tone, and Greeley laughed,

"Don't worry, Gorm, you'll get your turn before we do- keep _still,_ you little-"

Laurel squirmed again then, trying to force him off her, but he managed to hold her there, hissing something in her ear that the others didn't quite catch.

"Home sweet home," Alan said as Woodbury appeared at the end of the road- atop a large makeshift wall stood a pair of humans, hands loaded with guns.

"Don't say a fucking word," Greeley hissed at Laurel, pushing her head closer to his legs.

"Who's there?!" shouted Ben from the wall.

"It's us!" His dad cried back, "Open up these doors, kiddo, we're freezing out here."

Ben jumped down the wall obliged, letting the group back through the gates, oblivious to all that had occurred at the prison; Alan ruffled a hand through his boy's hair as their truck passed, glad that Ben hadn't yet been elevated to soldier status here; he didn't want him knowing about the dark shit that was going on here right now. Once they'd got rid of this prison group, though, everything would be fine- no more secrets and lies, no more going to sleep worrying about Biters and madmen.

"Are you going to the warehouses?"

"Yeah," the Martinez said through the widow.

"Can you give us a lift up?" Jacob asked, "we're on rotation- Tyreese and Jody are up here next-"

"You'll have to walk," Martinez said, not wanting the boys to see the captives they'd brought back with them.

"Yeah," Greeley drawled from the back of the truck, holding Laurel down still with the assistance of Dean as the truck drove on, "God gave ya legs, if you don't use 'em, may as well cut them off."

As the vehicle drove on, Dean shouted over to a lone female resident, "Hey! Get back inside, there's a curfew, remember?!"

The woman began to approach the truck.

"Keep- still!" Greeley hissed down at Laurel as she fought to break free, tried desperately to make her presence known- he drew his gun and held it against the back of her neck.

"Not a fucking word, capisce?"

Laurel nodded a little, keeping still then, still tense under the grip of the boy.

"What's happening with Karen?!" the woman asked, leaning against Martinez' window, "the woman who killed her, have you dealt with her yet-?!"

"Everything's under control, Mirya," Phillip reassured her. "You just get back inside- its best if everyone stays in until we sort this out. I'll talk with everyone in the morning."

Mirya nodded, turning and walking to her home; the man who had called Greeley out on his shit stood as the truck began to slowly move on, and jumped out over the side.

"I'm out," he muttered, smoothing a hand over his facial hair as his feet touched the ground, "I've had enough of this shit for one night- fucking kidnapping _kids..."_

"Remember, me and you are on watch first thing tomorrow, Braddock," Alan called to the man, and he waved a dismissive hand as he walked off in the direction of his apartment. The truck continued on, until eventually they hit the very back of the town, past the stores and the make-shift arena, far out from where the residents slept.

"Get up," Greeley said, pulling Laurel back up to her seat. She pushed him away with an angry snarl, and he raised his arms defensively.

"Get him out," Phillip instructed from the passenger's side, jumping out of the car and gesturing to Merle, still unconscious in the back seat beside Shumpert. "I want him cleaned up and ready to go- Alan and Calvin, you go down and fetch Alice Stevens, she'll be able to clean him up properly, get that bullet out-"

"What shall we tell her?" Alan asked, wondering how they'd fob the doctor off.

"Nothing," Phillip replied, "she's a good girl, she knows not to say a word about her... patients."

"What are you going to do with us?" Laurel asked as the men began to jump out of the truck.

"Lots of things," Greeley replied, smirking as he jumped from the truck's carriage, being careful of his damaged ankle, "things we'll be doing to you will be a bit more fun that the ones we'll do to this old bastard, though-"

"Greeley," Milton scolded, and the boy shrugged, flicking a panel in Milton's glasses.

"Ah, lighten up."

Laurel sat in horror as Martinez and Shumpert hooked Merle beneath the arms and began to drag him in the direction of the warehouses. Laurel stood as though to follow, and Dean, the only other person still in the back of the truck, took hold of her wrist and pulled her back down.

"Easy there- you ain't going anywhere, so sit the fuck down."

Reluctantly Laurel obliged, sitting opposite him in the truck and holding her breath.

"Don't hurt him," she called out to the men, "please."

Greeley smirked at her, gave her a wink and followed after Martinez and Shumpert.

"Whatever you say, doll face."

**AN: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD  
WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN**

**oh wait... because I wrote it that way D:**

**I don't like posting on thursdays but I updated tonight because I love you folks, and not that much really happens in this chapter despite it's length which I kind of feel bad about, so here, a special gift for you!**

**GREELEY *shakesfist* I FLUCKING HATE THAT KID**

**fun fact: In the comics, Greeley is only mentioned by name and the Gov blends him up as a nice evening snack for Penny… obviously, we're taking a very different view of him here. **

**And say a big hello to our first OC's, Gideon Braddock_ ~Jokerang_ and Mirya Jones ~_PunkRockPancake_!**

**And oooh, one more thing- I wrote a fun little drabbly thing of how Lerle might have met had the apocalypse not started on the day it did. It's just a bit of fun, just a few thousand words, but I love it- if anyone would like to read it let me know and if enough people are interested i'll put it up :)**

**Have a good one, and please don't forget to review if you have the chance! **

**Wizadora x**


	38. Chapter 38: Storage

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: **

**Storage**

"All done," smirked Greeley, tying up the last knot around Merle's wrist and securing him to the office chair. It's wheels span a little, and the boy had to re-adjust the position of it. Tying the other arm had been a bitch, seeing as there was no hand to tie, but he'd managed it eventually.

"So what's the plan, Martinez?" Merle asked Caesar, "you gonna just leave me tied to this chair to bleed to death with my shoulder all torn up like this?" Hell, he could feel himself phasing in and out- he'd on;y woke up a couple of minutes ago, and his head, his muscles, were agony. The blood from his shoulder, sodden into his shirt, was causing his chest to itch; Merle rolled his tongue around his mouth and tried to stay alert,

"We're gonna take you up to Doc Stevens first," Martinez told him, "get that bullet out of your skin, clean the wound."

"Governor wants a clean slate to bash up, y'see," Shumpert added from his guard position in the doorway, "figures it's not a fair fight if you're zoning out every five minutes from the pain in your shoulder."

"Well ain't he considerate," Merle spat sarcastically, leaning his head around his neck and causing the bones to click loudly. Jesus, his shoulder_ was_ killing him, even more so now than he could remember it hurting before he'd passed out.

_What the hell had happened?_ He still didn't know- all he remembered was getting shot, the bullet ripping open his skin... then there was gunfire, more of it, and... _Motorhead?_ Yeah, definitely music... the there was Rick shouting, Daryl screaming, and there was Laurel, by his side and shouting at him to stay awake, and he was calling her stupid, telling her to piss off because he didn't want her there, didn't want her getting caught in all of this... and then there was black.

"What the hell happened out there?" Merle asked- it was obvious he'd been taken, but he knew that was gonna happen the second he'd felt himself zoning out, anyway- hell, he was lucky he'd woken up at all.

"You kill my brother?" he asked, and Martinez shook his head.

"They're all still alive. Governor decided we'd leave with just you. And..."

"And what?"

"...And that girl."

Merle felt his chest drop, a pain that wasn't caused by his injury. "You tellin' me he had Laurel brought back here?"

"If that's her name, the blonde one, then... yeah, she's here."

Merle felt something twist inside him. "Where?"

"None of your business, old man," Greeley called, and Merle sneered down at him. The new boy, a disgusting little ball of strained testosterone and stale cigarette smoke, then grabbed hold of the end of Merle's tied arm and started to unwrap the layers of pewter duct tape holding on the blade.

"Watch where you're putting those hands, Dorothy, or you won't have them for long," Merle warned him as he pulled roughly at the tape.

"Shut it."

"Y'all replaced me with this little son of a bitch?" Merle continued to Martinez and Shumpert, looking down his nose at the scummy kid, "boy must'a fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down twice over. Doubt even your Ma could love you with a face like that. Don't look smart enough to pick his own dick out of a line up, neither, never mind organize a loot-"

"Fuck you, man," the Greeley snapped, pulling off the last bit of tape, "next time I'll make sure the bullet goes twix' your eyes instead of your damn shoulder."

"Oh, now I'm shakin'," Merle mocked, then his tone darkened. "If it weren't for these damn bastard ties I'd beat the crap out of you so hard your lungs'd fall straight out of your ass, you little shit."

"What, one handed?"

"No handed," Merle growled. He looked over at the other henchman and said, "ain't that right, Martinez?"

Martinez remembered the roundhouse to the face he'd taken back in the arena.

"Wouldn't get too close if I were you, Dewey. Best tie his legs up, too."

_"'Dewey?!'"_ Merle scoffed at the kid, "where'd your mama find that dumb ass name, a lucky dip?"

"You can fucking talk," the boy spat, "what kind of stupid bitch calls a kid _Merle?_"

"Hold on to that tongue of yours, boy, cuz its comin' outta your rotten skull soon as I'm outta this chair."

"I'd like to see ya try."

Martinez shook his head. "Are you two gonna sling shit at each other all night, or are we actually gonna get on with this?"

"Get on with _what?"_ Merle snarled, "patching me up so you can properly bash the shit out of me later? I'd rather stay here and swap licks with this dumb Guido piece of dirt, if it's all the same-"

"Shut your face 'fore I shut it for you," Greeley growled, his large nose practically pressed up against Merle's own.

"Get your honk outta my face, Anne Frank," Merle replied saltily, then head-butted the kid. The boy fell backwards with a cry, holding onto his injured forehead.

"Man, I'll kill you, you fucking-!"

"Oh, take your tampon out," Merle mocked, laughing from his chair as the boy got shakily to his feet, "just be glad I didn't open up a fresh can of whoop ass on ya-"

"You-!"

"I know you think your Tony Montana incarnate around here, Greeley," Martinez scolded the boy sharply, "but for once how 'bout you take your own advice? … shut up."

"_'Dewey Greeley'_," Merle recited, "damn, your parents musta really hated your sorry ass-"

"How many times have I gotta tell you to _shut the fuck up?!"_

"_You _shut up," Martinez hissed at the kid. "Go make yourself useful- we don't need your help out here, we'll wheel him up to Doc Stevens now."

"_'Wheel me up,'_" Merle repeated, shaking his head from side to side. "Never thought I'd see the day..."

"I'll go lock that girl up, then," interrupted Greeley, brightening up a little as he headed for the doorway, rifle bouncing on his hip, "check out the scenery and that, y'know?"

Merle practically growled at the boy. "You so much as touch a hair on that girl's head, kid, and I will dice you up into little bite-sized cubes and use you as Walker bait."

"She yours?" Martinez asked.

Merle looked at him. "No... shit, we worked together side by side near a year, how'd you not know I ain't got no kids?"

"I dunno, man, just thought- you said you were back at that camp in Atlanta, maybe you had other family there..."

"She ain't mine."

"Then you oughten' mind me givin' her a special Woodbury welcome," Greeley smirked.

"You not hear me the first time I said I'd chop your ass? So much as one of your slimy fingers goes anywhere near that girl and I'll have your hands, boy, and that ain't just a threat."

"You got a thing for that little bitch? That's fucked up, man. You gotta be old enough to be her daddy. Me, on the other hand..." he shrugged and gave a horrid little laugh, like oil festering on water. "…And like my meat fresh off the bone, if you get what I'm sayin'-"

"You little cock-sucker-!" Merle buckled against the restraints, roaring abuse at the little bastard as Greeley flipped his middle finger and disappeared out of the storage unit with a wicked grin, making his way back up to where the Governor was stood, across the way from the truck they'd used to attack the prison where Laurel was sat up in the back, being guarded by Dean.

"Shall I take her up, boss?" Greeley asked as he approached.

The Governor nodded, gesturing over to the girl. "Keep it quiet- we don't want anybody up on the walls getting curious, and if she starts screaming that'll bring in more Biters, too. And uh- not too rough on the transport. I'd like her to still be in working order for our little chat tomorrow. I don't like handling damaged goods."

"Got it, boss," Greeley smirked with a wink, watching for a second as the Governor walked off, then walked up to the truck, climbing in the back beside Dean and tapping his friend on the shoulder. He looked to Laurel, who had her lids shut tightly as though that might stop reality from being reality. Greeley winked at Dean, who gave him a uneasy look, then sprang.

"Rise and shine!" he called loudly, and Laurel opened her eyes- the sudden noise had caused her to spring awake from her dazed state, and by the time she'd gained full recognition of her surroundings the henchman's arms had grabbed hold of her own and he was forcing her out of the truck.

"Come on, Greeley, don't be a jackass!" Dean scolded him, jumping out of the truck himself; the boy ignored his friend, wrangling with Laurel as she attempted to break loose of his awkward hold. "Woah there," Greeley laughed as she shrieked, hitting out at his arms, "you'll be waking the neighbors bawling like that." He placed a thick hand up over her mouth, and Laurel sharply bit the side of his finger. "Shit!" Greeley cried, pulling his hand away from her, "you little _bitch,_ what'ya do that for, you some kind of Biter?!"

"HELP!" Laurel screamed at the top of her voice, "HEL-!"

"Enough of that," he growled at her, pushing his hand gun up against the side of her head, "boss doesn't want you screaming, so _shut it_. Don't want me getting too trigger happy, now, do we?"

Laurel was quiet then, rigid as he forced her over the alley which lead to the store houses- it was proving difficult to move her when she was so intent on making herself a dead weight.

"Move," Greeley demanded but Laurel refused to comply, keeping her legs still together as he shoved her forwards. "I said, _move,_" he hissed, taking hold of her hair and carrying her along by it. Laurel eyed a tall fence the other side of the alley, which practically screamed _'no escape'_.

"Where's Merle?!" she asked quickly, voice choked, and Greeley laughed.

"Don't you worry about that hick bastard," he told her, "he's got the hots for you, hasn't he? Ugh. Weird fucking perv..."

"-Where is he?"

"Doesn't matter, you won't be seeing him again."

"...Have you killed him?"

"Maybe," Greeley drawled, enjoying her torment. "Maybe not..."

"Will you just tell me, please?"

"And what'll you give me if I do?"

"Oh, just piss off," Laurel hissed, deciding she wouldn't speak to this Imbecile a moment longer.

"...So, you got any fit friends back at that prison?" Greeley asked- Laurel didn't reply. She thought of Beth, what this little scumbag would do if he got his hands on her, and felt her stomach roll inside.

"You forgot how to talk?" Greeley snapped, flicking her in the back of the head.

Laurel refused to answer him, and he huffed through his teeth.

"Well, I'll find out anyway when we go back there. Gov's decided we're gonna pick you people off one by one, seeing as you tried that shit with that black bitch who came here- she fucked up my leg, you know-"

"_-Good."_

"_Rude._ And she killed Karen- not cool. Karen was nice- I was in there, I'm tellin' ya." He was quiet for a moment, lost in his muddled thoughts, before continuing, "anyway, I'm looking forward to meeting your friends, if there are any girls- I mean, you're alright, babe, but you're not really my type, If I'm honest."

"Leave me alone, then," Laurel hissed quickly, "and do not call me_ 'babe', _please."

"Aw, don't be like that, _babe._"

"Shut up."

"Watch your mouth-"

"-Just shut up."

Sharply he smacked her against the wall of the alley, slamming her head with great force off the back of it and continued pulling her along. As Laurel reeled at the instantaneous pain, Greeley grabbed her shoulders and dragged her forwards down the front of the alleyway.

"Where's Merle?" she asked again dizzily, losing her senses a little and struggling to regain her bearings, "where is he, and Michonne, what have you people done with them-?!"

Greeley took the gun he held off its safety and it clicked threateningly.

"I thought I told you to _shut up._"

Laurel was quiet then, trying to focus on the pounding in her head rather than the presence of the boy.

"...Here we go," he said eventually, pulling her to a stop before a storage unit, and lifting up the grate.

"Ladies first," he tormented, and pushed her roughly inside the holding container. "Get yourself some rest, you're gonna need it. We're gonna be having some fun with you." Greeley got back the other side of the metal grate and gave Laurel a smarmy grin, ready to lock her inside.

"Welcome to Woodbury."

**~oOo~**

Merle had passed out on the way to the room where Doctor Stevens kept her equipment- he lay motionless in the chair, bleeding still from his wound as Martinez wheeled him inside.

"Holy crap," Alice said, coming closer quickly, "Is that Merle?"

"Yep, he's back," Shumpert mused, locking the door behind the four of them.

"Clean him up quick," Martinez said to the woman, lighting up one of Merle's cigarettes that they had found in his back pocket, "we need tis done sharpish. Governor wants him fit and ready by tomorrow."

"But- he's been shot, what happened?"

"I thought you weren't supposed to ask questions?" Shumpert sneered, and Alice raised her hands defensively.

"What Shump means," Alan interrupted, "is that he came here, like that woman did who murdered Karen- they're trickling in now, that group from the prison. Trying to kill us off- keep it quiet, Alice. The situation's under control, but if you go shouting about town that Merle's here, people will panic. Do you understand?"

"...Yes," Alice nodded, beginning to work at removing the bullet. "...How long has he been out?"

"About five minutes."

"And before that?"

"He was out cold for about twenty just after he took the bullet."

"Jesus... come on, untie him."

"But we just spent ages-!"

"I can't treat him from a desk chair!" Alice yelled at the men, who proceeded to untie Merle and lay his unconscious form out on the bed. The doctor lay him in the best recovery position she could manage with his wound, checked his airway and used her makeshift stethoscope to check his heartbeat. Alice checked his pulse beneath his neck, and upon realizing that it was stable, she unwound the makeshift bandage that Martinez had applied to Merle's wound in the truck and checked his temperature.

"Are you gonna get on with it?" Martinez asked, and Alice snapped, "I need to check for shock- he's been _shot,_ for Gods sake. Was he talking when he was awake?

"Non stop."

"Was he making any sense?"

"About as much sense as I've ever heard Dixon make before, yeah."

"I need ice," Alice said.

"What, from the fucking fridge freezer? Get real-"

"The Governor's got a generator, hasn't he? ...Just go up there and ask him, if he wants this bullet out as much as you're making out i'm sure he'll rustle some up. Go and fetch me some, quick, and I need alcohol."

"Just do it without-"

"I am not digging a bullet out of a guy's flesh without some form of anesthesia!" Alice yelled, "get the ice and spirit, now!"

Shumpert complied, and Alice prepared the area whilst he was gone- he returned several minutes later with a bag of ice, in which time Merle had begun to stirr unto consciousness again. Alice muttered consolingly to him, urging him to stay awake, and shoving the neck of the scotch bottle into his mouth- Merle drank it without question, drowning in the dark liquid until Alice removed it from his lips.

"What, you're gonna get him pissed, too, Doc?" Martinez asked, and Alice wiped the neck of the thing, holding it to her own lips.

"Who said it was for him?" She said, pressing the ice wrapped in a towel against the wound for a few minutes as she sipped down a little of the whiskey herself. "Here goes nothing," she muttered, dousing a little of the alcohol onto a cloth and rubbing it over a knife to sterilize the blade.

"Wait, you're just gonna- dig it out?" Martinez added, and Alice shrugged her shoulders.

"You got any better ideas, genius? I'm the doctor here, and I'm trying my best under_ very_ difficult circumstances. If either of you two are squeamish, I suggest you get out, now. Hold still, Dixon- this isn't gonna be pretty..."

**~oOo~**

Laurel was crying. She felt pathetic and weak doing it, but she couldn't stop herself- she felt so worthless, so utterly hopeless, and so scared, so damn _scared._ These people had them, her and Merle, Michonne, too, they'd said- and it was pretty clear they hadn't brought them around for tea and cookies. Merle was shot up on his shoulder, which meant he'd be hurting real bad if he wasn't dead already, the Governor had his sights on Michonne for what had happened with his turned daughter and his eye and the kid who'd brought her in here had made it pretty clear what they planned to do with her.

_Oh, God. _

Laurel sat with her back against the stone-cold radiator, shivering in the dark container. It was hollow and grey, devoid of life and had a haunting echoing quality- there was a table and a chair in the center, which had split strips of duct tape around its arms, suggesting this wasn't the first time Woodbury had housed its guests in this room. She had opted not to sit there because on the floor beside the chair lay a black tank top, which appeared to belong to a woman; Laurel had thought of Maggie, realizing it may have been hers from when she and Glenn were taken.

Laurel had been locked up in the holding unit for a good two hours before there was any sign of movement; hushed voices started up from down the alley, and as they neared she felt her whole body tense. The voices passed by her warehouse room door, however, and instead collected somewhere to the right of where she was- a door was heard opening, there was more indistinguishable talk amongst the voices and quickly the door was slammed. The footsteps and speech started to move again, and as the burst of life drifted by Laurel's unit, several of the voices stopped.

"Go on," uttered one distinguishable voice, full of almost drunken mirth, "I dare ya."

"Nah," replied another voice- that of Greeley, she recognized with a lurch. "Nah, not yet, Gov says to leave her alone for now. He's gonna talk to her in the morning, he said- he's with that black woman tonight, giving her a real seeing to, Shump said. C'mon, we gotta get back on the back wall-"

"Did you get a good look at her?"

"Yeah, she's alright, to be fair. Should be fun if the Gov says we can have her, you know what I mean-?"

A burst of angry cursing came through from the room beside Laurel's, and she realized that it was Merle's voice.

_"Merle?!"_

"Oh, here we go," Greeley drawled as the two began to shout to each other, "now you've started world war fucking _three-!_"

"Any of you sons of bitches go near her and-!"

"Merle! Are you okay-?!"

"We're gonna be doin' more than _'going near'_ when the Gov's finished with her," Greeley shouted out to spite Merle, "maybe if you're lucky we'll bring you through and let you watch, bet you'd like that, wouldn't ya, you _fucking-!_"

The abuse went on endlessly between the three, insults across Merle and Greeley and yelling and eventual tears from Laurel; eventually one of the other men who'd been there, Dean, snapped,

"Alright, shut up, all of ya! Come on, Greeley, we're meant to be on watch in five minutes- if we're late we'll get the shit ripped out of us by Gideon, you know what he's fucking like-"

"I'll rip the shit out of ya myself, you little pricks-!"

"Oh, fuck off!" Greeley shouted through to Merle, then nodded to Dean and the other guy. "One more minute-"

Greeley opened up the bag of tools left on the desk outside the warehouses, found the reel of duct tape and cut a strip off with the aid of Dean. He opened up Laurel's door again, ignoring the fusillade of abuse she hurled at him as he grabbed her by the shoulders and secured the tape across her lips, pulling her cardigan from her shoulders and using its arms to tie her hands together tightly.

"Problem solved," Greeley noted, pushing her away roughly and heading out of the door again.

"Let's get out of here- see you later," he mocked, smacking his knuckles against the corrugated door and causing the sound to ring through both warehouses, "we'll be seeing you both real soon."

Laurel breathed heavily beneath the gag, sinking into the chair with the duct taped arms now and placing her bound arms on the table.

"You alright in there, sweetheart?" Merle shouted eventually- the walls were thick, and nothing but yells could be heard between the two walls. She didn't reply, and he gathered that they'd taped her- either that or knocked her out. Realizing she would be incapable of responding, he asked, "make some kinda noise if you are."

Laurel knocked her hands against the table loudly, and Merle breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good," he said. "Have they done anythin' to you?"

Laurel didn't make a sound, and Merle understood this to mean no- he drawled, "that's good, too."

She wanted to ask him all her questions- _was he alright? Had they done anything to him? What about that wound on his shoulder, had they actually cleaned him up or just left him with a bullet in him, bleeding? And where was Michonne?_

They had brought Merle in here, unconscious, about half an hour ago- when he had awoken it had been to a horrific pain back in his shoulder, and he was wearing a different shirt, a navy wife beater, his bullet-scathed arm bandaged now with layers of cotton- he remembered the agony of Doctor Stevens ripping the steel bullet from his arm, the burn of the alcohol as she had doused the newly-cleaned wound in the alcohol to sterilize it- he had passed out then, but by the burn he could feel, he guessed she'd ended up cauterizing it shut. His arms had been tied above his head and his feet were chained to a wooden pillar beneath his seat- all he wanted to do was sleep, but he didn't feel able to do so, not now that he knew Laurel was in there, scared and all by herself.

"This ain't right," Merle breathed, too quiet for her to be able to hear through the aluminium walls. She shouldn't be here- _he_ shouldn't be here, but she _definitely_ shouldn't. She didn't deserve this... gagged and locked up in a cold warehouse, with that little bastard pining after her and the Governor waiting to kill them both stone cold dead.

"When they come, sweetheart," Merle told, tightening his jaw, "you're gonna have to be brave, alright?"

Laurel made a tiny knocking sound against the table, and Merle sighed.

"I don't mean to scare ya, darlin'..."

_I know,_ she thought, but she couldn't help it- she _was_ scared. In only a few days her entire life had turned around for the second time in her young years- _she should be at college, _she remembered thinking back at the store she'd lived in; should be studying and spending weekends at home with her family, sitting in the park with her friends, not living like a hermit in an abandoned supermarket with three guys she barely had anything in common with than a need for survival. Yet here she was now, thinking how she should be in that store with Veau and Darren and Brent, sitting around and eating past it's sell by date confectionery, telling each other stories of home they had all heard ten times over and saying how much they wished this had all never happened, not locked in a warehouse in a town full of people who wanted everyone she was close to dead, not knowing if she would be dead by tomorrow- or if her life would even be worth living by that point.

"I don't want ya worryin'," he said- _there was no point._ There was no point at all bringing up everything that had happened earlier, either- screaming in her face, knocking her flat out- not even kissing her. They were here now, and this was it, this was what mattered, but worrying about it wouldn't do her any good at all- eve if what was coming was gonna be awful.

He tried to think that Daryl might come, that by some chance the prison group would turn up and save them like they had done with Glenn and his girl, with him and Daryl... _well, with Daryl, anyway._ But that wasn't gonna happen, and he knew it- Daryl was out of his head, probably unconscious- _two days,_ the old man had said. In two days, he'd be dead- Laurel would too, or worse, and that didn't bare thinking about. Rick wouldn't risk the rest of the group, and he couldn't blame him for that, as much as he'd like to hate him for it.

Merle fought to stay awake, talked to her for a long while about nothing in particular, anything to take her mind off what might happen, what was happening right now. He struggled to keep his head together, but eventually the lure of sleep took hold of him, and he felt himself slip away into unconsciousness.

Laurel sat alone in the cold cell, hands held close in front of her, and prayed that morning would come soon.

**AN: My Lerle feels D':**

**(Almost) 5000 words for you because you are all very special snowflakes (and not the narcissistic kind) :3**

**And guys, as for the AU meet up thing, I'm surprised so many of you want to read it, hurray! ****I've decided I'm going to post it as a separate story, 'Imprisoned AU's'; It's going to be a mini series, hurrah! It'll be a series of one-shot drabble things, each one answering a different question; the first being,_ 'What would have happened if the apocalypse hadn't started on the day it did?'_ I'm going to upload at each mile stone in the main story (reviews, follows, views, faves, etc), the first which will be when we hit 300 reviews, which looks like it will be soon! I'd really love it if you guys could give me a few more_ 'what if?'_ questions I could write up for future AU drabbles, either post or pre apocalyptic/ AU :D**

******Hope you enjoyed this chapter, guys, please leave a review if you did, and don't forget any AU suggestions**!

**All the best until the next installment,**

**Wizadora x **


	39. Chapter 39: Talk

**AN:****_Those of you who have submitted OC's, please be sure to read the end AN once you've finished the chapter- thanks, guys!_**

**A Musical chapter! One of the classics, good ol' song from 1955! You know the drill by now- youtube 'The Platters- Only You' ( watch?v=iZs-e_x0PGM), look out for the (*), then play as you read! Simples!**

**Chapter Forty:**

**Talk**

_Screaming._

That's all Merle heard, all night in his head. It had woken him twice, twice to the black of the warehouse and the silence from next door- she was not screaming, he told himself- it was in his head, his mid playing tricks on him as he slept, showing him all the things that could happen. She was probably in there asleep, dreaming sweet thoughts that would drag her away from her reality- or maybe she was dreaming of screaming, too.

By the time morning came, Merle's eyes had opened to the darkness of the poorly lit chamber. He could hear Laurel shuffling about in the room beside his now, her feet scuffling the chair across the floor; had she slept at the table? Or has she simply had no sleep at all? ...Hell, his shoulder was on fire. His arms, tied above his head, were white and numb with the lack of blood- he took a few minutes to ready himself, trying to flex his fingers, before realizing that the scuffling might be her way of getting his attention in her gagged state.

"You alright in there, darlin'?" he called, leaning forwards in his restraints. She tapped hard against the table, which he remembered was her signal for _'yes.'_

He chatted idly to her for a while, saying anything just so that she could hear his voice, know that he was there and he wasn't leaving her. After a while, Merle thought he heard the sound of footsteps coming up the alley where they were being held; he closed his eyes tightly and arched his back up against the stone wall. Here they were, and there was nothing he could do to stop them coming. Nothing at all he could do to stop what was gonna happen.

"Don't you cry, sweetheart," he swallowed then, just as the locks on Laurel's door began to twist and pucker. She breathed an involuntary gasp beneath the tape across her face, clinging to the edge of the table as though it might save her from whatever was coming. "Don't you cry," Merle said again, eyes staring straight ahead now.

"Hey there, honey bunch," Greeley teased as he hauled open the container's entrance, grinning at Laurel from the other side of the door.

Merle's stomach twisted, and his hand curled up against the restraints. _Of all the fuckers he could have sent..._

He heard the boy's footsteps cross the floor and Laurel's chair screeching across the ground as she stood to move away.

"Sleep well? ...Hey, where'dya think you're going?" Greeley snapped, waving his arms at her as she took a step back to get away from him; he grabbed a firm hold on her upper arm, took a grip on the edge of the duct tape plastered over her lips and ripped it from her face.

"You gonna keep quiet, or am I gonna have to find you somethin' better for you to do with that mouth?"

_Lungs out of his ass, _Merle reminded himself.

"Fuck off," Laurel said coldly. Merle would have been proud, maybe even laughed and cheered her on, if she hadn't sounded so damn scared.

"Ooh, the cat's found her claws," Greeley taunted, stepping back from her and heading for the door. "Move yourself. The Gov wants to have a talk with you about stuff-"

"What kind of stuff?"

"I don't know, just things... c'mon, move. Or do I have to come back in there and grab you?"

Merle flexed his muscles in frustration.

Laurel moved forwards wearily and followed the brute out of the warehouse room, glancing back to the wall adjoined with Merle's holding cell.

"Move it!" Greeley hissed, jabbing her in the side with the heel of his hand.

_Douchebag_, Laurel thought, walking forwards up the alley.

"They're gonna come," Laurel told him sternly in an attempt at intimidation as he continued to provoke her, trying to hide the minute break in her voice at the threats he had delivered, "Rick, Glenn, all the people you've pissed off- they're coming for you all."

Greeley scoffed. "Ain't no-one coming. Face it- they've left the lot of ya to die, you, Dixon and that black bitch."

"Michonne isn't a bitch. And they _are_ coming."

"Alright, you keep dreaming about your knights in shining armor and all that bullshit- won't stop the facts. And guess what? Gov's said we get to do whatever we want with you once he's finished- reward for all the hard work us guys have been putting in lately, you see. Told you we'd have some fun with ya. I've already got plenty suggestions of what we could do. I've drawn up a list," he grinned, tapping the side of his head teasingly, "want to here a few of the ideas?"

"I'd rather not," Laurel breathed in disgust. Laurel tried a different tactic with him. She brushed her hair off her face and asked,

"Have you got a sister?"

"Have _you _got a mute button?" he retorted, squeezing the back of her neck tighter as he shoved her a little quicker up the path. As they came to the opening of the alley way, Greeley heard voices- he pulled Laurel to the side of the alley and held her there with his one hand still wrapped around the back of her neck, the other over her mouth to stop her making a sound as the residents passed, their chests touching. Once the threat had gone, Greeley nodded at her with a smirk, keeping her there for a few excruciating moments before taking his hand away from her mouth and pulling her on out onto the passage of the alley.

"I had one," he said eventually in a gruff tone, deciding to answer her question after all. "Her name was Elennie."

"Elennie," Laurel repeated. She swallowed, hard, and questioned for a second whether or not to continue her attempt at reasoning with him. "And what would you have done if someone had done this to her?"

Greeley thought for a moment. "I'd have ripped his head off and shoved it down his throat," he replied with a hard stare at the horizon.

"...I had a brother," Laurel lied. She thought quickly of her time back at the store, and instantly a name came into her head- the closest thing she'd ever had to a brother. "His name was Darren. He would have said exactly the same thing."

"Yeah? Good for him."

"...Why is this any different?"

He looked at her hard then, taking his hand from the back of her neck and letting her walk freely.

"You're not my sister."

**~oOo~**

The prison was silent. No one moved, no one spoke; no one could even bring themselves to look at anyone else.

Glenn had driven out and brought Hershel back, along with Beth, Carl and the babies. The group sat quietly in a semi-circle, all but Carol and Daryl. Daryl had passed out now, and Carol sat outside his cell on the floor with her head cradled in her hands as she listened, waiting for either him to wake or Rick to speak. Eventually, the latter happened.

"I don't know what to do," Rick said in all honesty, his face leant into the palm of his right hand as he looked about the group. "I don't know what we _can_ do."

"We have to go after them," Maggie said, "we sneak into Woodbury like we did before, get the three of them and get out of there, get home-"  
"Then we leave," Maggie added, "for good. We should go to the coast, like T-Dog suggested-"

"No, we go North, Carolina way," Glenn suggested, "there's a military base that might still be up and running, if we use the Dahlongea highway, route nine-"

"You're talking about this like it's already decided!" Carol called over, "what happened to all that talk about sticking it out, fending them off-?!"

"Clearly we can't do that," Rick said, "we tried today, and look where that got us, we lost two more of our own-"

"No we _haven't_!" Beth cried, "they're still out there and they need our help, they're not dead!"

"Not that we know," Glenn added- Beth gave him a quick look and shook her head.

"We can't just leave them- we need them, they're part of our family now-"

"Merle Dixon is not our family," Glenn said.

"You're right," Carol agreed, "Merle isn't our family- not yet, anyway. But he is Daryl's, and we can't just let him die-"

"They could be dead already," Hershel imputed. "We need to seriously consider how we go about this, not just shout in each others faces- the facts are that we could have lost them already- we need to decide if it's worth risking the lives of others here for a chance at saving the three of them- who might already be dead."

"They're not dead," Rick drawled- the others stared at him, hard.

"What do you mean?"

"How do you _know?_"

"He said to me," Rick explained, "the Governor... he said he was gonna make it slow. If he didn't plan on keeping them alive, at least for a little while, he would have killed them on the spot."

"Not being funny but... its a big risk, goin' back up to that town... maybe... well, you know I hate to say it, but someone's gotta... maybe we should just leave now," Axel tried, "get out of here, before it's too late for all of us... we haven't got the man power to get back in there, not with Daryl out cold- uh- we could wait, maybe, till he gets better-"

"We _can't!_" Beth shouted, angry more than anything now, "they could all be dead by that time, and the Governor could be back here- without Michonne we'd never have known where Maggie and Glenn were, we owe her! Merle is Daryl's brother, and Laurel is my _friend!_ We can't just leave them, who knows what they'll do to them?!"

"We're not leavin' them," Rick consoled her, "but Axel's right- we haven't got the man power. Without Michonne or Merle, we don't know the layout, ways we could get in or out quietly... last time we were lucky, now they know our route, they'd kill us before we even got close. If we wait until Daryl's back up and runnin' again, he can tell us where they kept him, the things he saw, we can make a plan and get in there quick, grab the three of them, kill the Governor if we can... then maybe it is best if we just... leave."

**~oOo~**

Laurel and Greeley walked through in silence until the boy noticed the bandage on her forearm.

"What happened there?" He asked.

"Nothing," Laurel lied, pulling the arm closer to her midriff.

"Shit, you ain't been _bit,_ have ya?!" Greeley called in a panic as he leaned away from her.

"No," Laurel retorted, lumbering up the alley way reluctantly.

"Let's have a look," Greeley demanded, not believing her, holding her shoulders and pushing her against the inner alley wall. Laurel resisted, intimidated by his stance as he grabbed her arm and began to unwind the bandage that resided there- he pulled it loose, revealing the long vertical slit of flesh afflicted by Merle's inconsiderate knife.

"Ouch, that looks painful," he seethed, relieved that it hadn't been a bite.

"It isn't," Laurel said quickly, pulling her arm back to her and carrying up on the alley way, letting the bandage fall to the floor.

"Who did that?"

"Nobody," Laurel lied. "I cut it on... on a broken window."

"I call bullshit," Greeley smirked, "that's way too clean a stroke to be an accident- was it that dumb bastard, with his Stanley knife arm thing?"

"No," Laurel insisted.

"I bet it was," Greeley vouched, "not that it matters- come on, up we go."

Greeley lead her up a flight of stairs at the back of one of the larger houses and knocked thrice on the door presented there. A voice from inside acknowledged the request and Laurel was jabbed through the door.

"Ah," called the cool, collected voice, "I don't believe we've been properly introduced."

Laurel stared at the man- he was sat in an armchair facing the door. Now that she was able to get a proper look at him, she was surprised by his appearance; a grotesquely inappropriate smile graced his sickeningly charming features. But then again, what had she been expecting..._ a cloak and a devious mustache?_ No- this man- this Governor- was normal, at least physically- _too_ normal for the world they lived in now. He had well-kept hair, untrustworthily white teeth, and was adorned in a pressed beige shirt, black suit pants and a dusty-blue body warmer. Everything about him screamed conservative; perhaps that was what made him so abnormal, that the rest of the world had fallen to pieces, yet here he stood, all combed hair and rows of pearly teeth, as though he hadn't got the memo that society had crumbled.

The large horizontal eye patch shielding his swollen right lid was the only give that he had faced any tribulation in the past year; Laurel remembered Merle telling her the story of how Michonne had taken his eye. The man stood from his chair in greeting, turning to the young henchman and dismissing him with polite thanks. Greeley left, and the Governor turned back to Laurel.

"Phillip," he introduced, holding out his hand graciously with a charlatanic grin. Laurel stared at it like it was some vile insect devouring his arm and made no attempt to return the gesture; she thought suddenly of Maggie, and every muscle in her body weakened.

The Governor gave a little laugh under his breath and turned back to the rest of the room. Laurel noticed it was overtly grand, with a cabinet full of crystal glasses mounted on one wall, an ornate wooden table of mahogany peeking through the door to the next room which reminded her of the desk they'd used as a shield at the prison, and a library of books arranged on a case in the corner. The man took a sparkling whiskey glass from the crystal cabinet, polished to perfection, and emptied half the contents of one of the bottles into it. The brown liquid sloshed thickly in the glass before yielding to the restraints of its new home; the Governor reached up for another tumbler glass and turned to Laurel with a meretricious smile.

"Drink?"

She shook her head, more so in disbelief than rejection, and he moved his hand over to the row of wine glasses.

"More of a Chardonnay type of gal?"

She shook her head again as he wobbled the hose of the wine bottle enticingly. Seeing she would not be swayed by his farce, the Governor strode to the music player, clicking a button and causing the first chords of _'Only You'_ to blaze through the small apartment. **(*)**

"Lighten the mood a little," he smiled with a pale chortle- Laurel didn't respond and he swayed to the music some. He pulled up his scotch glass and took a drink.

"So, what do you think of our little place?" The man asked, leaning against the dark wooden desk and taking a sip of the burning liquid. This time, Laurel's disbelief turned into anger and she seemed to go off like a lit catherine wheel, far more forward than she would ever have expected from herself.

"Well, between the kidnapping, the man-handling from your little hench boy, listening to my friend get the shit kicked out of him half the night and being threatened with rape, I can't exactly give you a five-star rating," she spat, and he moved a little closer to her. She backed off, and he raised his hands as a gesture of peace.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he called, and it sounded almost genuine. "I apologize for the behavior of my men. And as for Merle- well, you have to understand, he put our whole town in danger, the same with Michonne- lead a troop of maimed killers into our camp."

"They're not _killers!"_ Laurel hissed, breathing heavily now. "Just let us go, please- we've got nothing to give you, no information you could want, so just let us leave."

"You said _'kidnapping'_ just," the Governor noted, running his hand over the mahogany unit, "there you were wrong; kidnapping would have to imply that there would be some kind of ransom, some way of Rick getting the three of you back home; this is an abduction. There's no trades or agreements, no negotiating out of this situation. Your group made your choice when you failed to deliver Michonne."

"She got away," Laurel told him, in some vain hope that he might see sense and not kill the three of them, "Merle had taken her and he was on his way to the Silos but the car crashed and she escaped-"

"I believe you," The Governor smiled as he looked at her, and he seemed genuine. He offered her a seat again, and Laurel declined uneasily.

"Your people follow Rick like he knows everything..." he took a glug of his rich whiskey. "He's indoctrinated himself in all of you. Brainwashed you."

"He looks after us," Laurel rebuked.

"Not doing such a good job of that now, is he?" He gave her a sardonic grin and Laurel frowned.

"He's a good man."

"You know who else were good men?" he told her, running a finger around the rim of his scotch glass, "the five of my guys he shot. And a good woman, too- young, not much older than yourself. Your people did that, in cold blood."

"And what about_ your _people?" Laurel confronted him, "you come into our home twice, start shooting bullets at us and bringing Walkers through the gates? Abduct us?"

"Your men hit first."

"_You_ hit first," Laurel demanded, "you caused all this by what you did to Glenn and Maggie, you've got no reason not to just leave us all alone-!"

"-and you know who brought Glenn and Maggie here in the first place?" He asked her knowingly. Laurel's face contorted for a second- yes, of course she knew. She had been trying to forget.

"I think you know who's to blame," the Governor reasoned, "...for _all _of this."

"He's not like that," Laurel demanded, though she sounded a little uncertain in her own conviction. "...Not anymore. He- he feels bad about the things he's done- he's away from you people and he cares about the prison. He cares about _us."_

_He cares about me,_ she thought, hardening her stance as she stared at the man, projecting the thought in his direction.

The Governor laughed- a trail of the dark liquid made the lining of his throat bubble and he stumbled over his words for a second. "The only person Merle cares about is himself. Your people are dangerous; Merle, his brother, Rick. They're a threat to us, to you, even to themselves. Something had to be done- the people here,_ my_ people, they can't keep on sleeping with one eye open- they just can't. Neither can I; heck, I've only got the one."

Laurel did not look swayed.

"You could stay here, in Woodbury," he offered gently in an attempt at subjugation, "I have no quarrel with you, Laurel. I'm sorry you've been caught up in all of this. There's no reason for things to turn sour between the pair of us- there's room enough here in Woodbury for you. It's safe here, clean, friendly. Just like the world used to be. No Walkers roaming just a couple meters from where you sleep at night, no warfare-"

"Walkers_ you _drove in," Laurel reminded him, "a war _you _started."

"You can join us," The Governor offered quickly, "It would be safe for you, I promise."

Laurel thought for a second. He was so silky smooth, so sure of himself. _What if he was right? What if Rick was the real danger, and he was so blinded even he himself couldn't see it?_ Maybe this Governor would let her go back, back to the prison and tell everyone to come to Woodbury, Carol and Beth and Herschel and all the others. Merle had told her before that they had doctors; maybe they could get Rick some help? She'd seen the walls on the way in; it was safe here for sure. No more barricading loose fences to stop Walkers, no more guarding the perimeter 24/7. No more feuds and sleeping with one eye open. Maybe this was the resolution they'd been looking for. But then she remembered Merle and Michonne, locked down there in those warehouses, bruised and bleeding, and she realized in that moment that she was deluding herself, and that she did not, and would _never,_ believe a word this man said. Perhaps she would have if she hadn't heard the stories from the others back home, but she knew from their own experiences that he was a serpent, a parasite feeding off their despair.

"What about Michonne?" she asked sharply with a sarcastic air, "will you let her live here safely? Or is she not afforded that privilege?"

"Michonne murdered my daughter," the Governor drawled coldly.

"Your daughter was already-"

"She was not... _dead_," he muttered. "She was my _baby,_ and that bitch put a sword through her skull."

As much as Laurel hated it, she couldn't help but feel a tiny bit sorry for him in his delusion; despite what he had done, what he was doing right _now,_ he was still a distraught father who had lost his little girl underneath it all.

"...And what about Merle?" She asked eventually.

The Governor looked at her, his expression slightly amused.

"Do you really care that much about _Merle Dixon?_"

Laurel thought for a moment, then nodded.

"More than anything."

The Governor looked at her inquisitively a moment, then understood. Slowly he coiled his words, stretching them out over the room to where Laurel stood.

"Merle Dixon's fate is my business, I'm afraid. We have... scores to settle. _Bones _to _pick._"

The way he said it made Laurel understand his meaning completely. Neither of them were getting out of here alive; not Merle, not Michonne. And, she guessed, after this, neither was she- he wanted everyone at the prison dead, gone, and that was the truth of it. That knowledge made her next words a thousand times easier to say.

"In which case, Governor, you can go and fuck yourself."

**AN:**

**YOU GO LAUREL MAH GURRRLLL! STICK IT TO THE MAN!**

**Bloody Governor, gurfurghfgahfg...**

**40 CHAPTERS WOO LET'S CELEBRATE! PARTY UP IN HERE! This chapter is dedicated to my dear little tea cup, who has suffered a lack of sleep- i'm so sorry it took so long to update, I hope you managed to get some sleep D: xxx**

_******But on a more boring note:**_

_******-FOR THOSE WHO HAVE SUBMITTED OC's-**_

_**As our OC's are beginning to trickle into the main story, I'd just like to ask you guys if you would do me a massive favor and just post this message below into the reviews for chapter one:**_

_**'**_**I give my permission for my original character, [YOUR CHARACTER'S NAME], to be used in this Fanfiction.' **

_**I would greatly appreciate it if you could, guys- I know it's a bit of a pain, but it will stop me getting grief over any Disclaimer Nazi's who might arise. That way I can just direct people to the reviews for chapter one in the main disclaimer, and all wars and "OI, YOU DON'T OWN THOSE CHARACTERS, Y U NO STATE THIS?!" flames are averted. Huzahh!**_

**~oOo~**

******Hope you all liked this one, guys- please review if you did, It would be very much appreciated!**


	40. Chapter 40: Brush

**300 ****REVIEWS ****WHUT THE DUCK ****OMG ****THANK YOU ****MARRY ME**

_**AN: More music! Y'all gonna need three tabs for this one.**_

_**There's alot of things you can say about the old Gov, but you can't fault his record collection! Very classy, very cultured. LISTEN, IT'S GOOD FOR YOUR SOUL. It will wash away the Bieber and Cyrus that the radio stations play down your precious ears XD**_

_**(*)- The Platters- 'Only You' ( watch?v=9r2pEdc1_lI)**_

_**(**)- Chopin-Etude no. 3 in E major, Op. 10 no. 3, "Tristesse" ( watch?v=EmQBFLJAIcY)**_

_**(***)- Bobby Vinton- Blue Velvet ( watch?v=icfq_foa5Mo)**_

**Chapter Forty-One:**

**Brush**

** (*)**

_"Merle Dixon's fate is my business, I'm afraid," said the Governor. " We have... scores to settle. Bones to pick." _

_The way he said it made Laurel understand his meaning completely. Neither of them were getting out of here alive; not Merle, not Michonne. And, she guessed, after this, neither was she- he wanted everyone at the prison dead, gone. That knowledge made her next words a thousand times easier to say. _

_"In which case Governor, you can go and fuck yourself."_

Silence fell upon the room. The Governor was looking at Laurel with an expression half way between utter shock and vile contempt._ Had she really just said that?_ Oh Lord, now she was in for it. The Governor kept his cold eye on her, like he was waiting for her to say something. Well, if it was an apology he was after, he could think again; if being around Merle Dixon as long as she had had taught her anything, it was not to apologize for something you meant.

Slowly, the Governor drained the rest of his whiskey, set it down on the table top and gave her a slow, foreboding clap.

"Please," he eased, in that same cool voice like velvet against satin, "call me Phillip."

His smooth facade was unscathed, but Laurel could tell her outburst had awakened something dark in the man. His eyes had changed above that sheer white smile, as though all the light had been sucked out of them and replaced with something black and cold as granite. Like a python, the Governor slid around the table and in front of the armchair which faced the entrance next to which Laurel still stood. For a fleeting second her body told her to run, but her brain over-ruled it; she could hear the occasional coughing of Greeley, stood somewhere near the bottom of the steps; and besides, even if she did somehow manage to get past him, she was in a perimeter-guarded gated community for God's sake, with a world full of Walkers beyond that- a rock and a hard place came to mind. As if that wasn't enough, if she did somehow prevail in her escape, Merle and Michonne would be left alone to the mercy of this evil creature that thought to call himself a man. With two sweeping steps the Governor was directly before Laurel. She took an automatic step in reverse and her body struck the glass panel of the door, causing the sheet to reverberate in it's socket- his hand came up round the back of her neck and he pulled her forwards sharply despite her protests, which stopped as he reached down for the envelope knife atop one of the dark wooden counters and brought it up against the skin of her jaw; the cold steel grated there and she swallowed, hard.

_Who needs to open letters in the middle of an apocalypse?!_ she thought despite her panic, drawing back as far as the hand on the back of her neck would allow her to. He walked her forwards as she demanded he leave her alone, and left her standing in front of the arm chair, the ornate letter opener still in his hand, as he poured himself another glass of whiskey. A little spilled over the side, probably due to his newly-found lack of proper hand-eye co-ordination. Laurel thought to move, but found her legs would not allow her to- she was shaking to the core.

"Drink," Phillip instructed, holding out the half-glass in her direction welcomingly- she eyed the blade in his hand and shook her head.

"Drink," he repeated, and this time it was clear that it was not an offer, but a command. Wearily Laurel reached for the heavy-bottomed glass, pressing it's rim against her lips and taking the tiniest of sips. He beckoned for her to take another and she did so reluctantly, the raw liquid grazing down her throat with an icy lick followed by a deep, rumbling burn that made her feel as though the skin there were aflame. The Governor turned back to his cabinet and brought down another glass, sloshing some more of the clear umber liquid into the crystalline goblet. He took a quick swig, wincing at the burn, and placed the bottle back in the cupboard.

"What do you want?" Laurel demanded eventually, as he finished swirling the alcohol around it's glass. He slowly slid through the furniture and allowed himself to stand in front of his armchair, facing Laurel, whose whole body was rigid with fear and something else, something less definable but twice as potent. He took her glass from her, drained it's contents and placed the thing down on the small desk beside his chair along with the letter knife. He opted to sit down then, and took a long, purposeful drink from his glass, resting it afterwards on the leather arm of the chair. He picked up the blade again and twirled it in his free hand, then looked at her straight and gave her a small directional nodding gesture.

"Get on your knees."

Laurel looked at him, registering immediately what such a thing would mean, and found herself dumbfounded with disgust. She shook her head, slowly at first, then firmly stated,

"No. I won't."

"You will," the Governor rebuked her. "Or which of Merle's body parts would you like brought up first? His head, or should we start smaller; maybe his other hand? I've heard it takes an agonizingly long time to die… just bleeding out like that. You choose."

Laurel looked at him with the most hateful, pained expression she held in her repertoire. The Governor held his own stare against her and eventually smirked.

"Dewey!" he called, and the footsteps of the henchman could be heard nearing the door.

"Yeah, boss?" Greeley called, his silhouette visible now through the frosted glass.

The Governor looked at Laurel expectantly for a long while, then mimed taking off some part of Merle's body with the letter knife. Still she refused, and Phillip said, "bring me Merle's head."

"...Really? Woah, that's... pretty hardcore. About time, n'all, I was wondering when we were gonna get down to business with that prick-"

"No!" Laurel called, and Phillip watched her expectantly; hopelessly her figure slumped, a pleading in her eyes which he ignored. He pointed downwards with the knife still in his grip, and she let out a shaky, broken sigh, tears threatening to form in her eyes. Pale as a Lotus and sick to the stomach, Laurel carefully bent to her knees before him on the floor.

"Never mind," The Governor called, and Greeley disappeared back down the steps, muttering under his breath.

"Good girl," he chirped to Laurel quietly, and stroked a hand over her hair like she was a puppy dog, the action slow and prolonged, designed to taunt her. Laurel recoiled, degraded by the vulgarity of the demeaning action, her right hand up by her mouth and her head turned away from him; she felt sick beyond belief, burning with shame, and felt a weak tear escape her eye. He stroked his hand down the side of her face as though to comfort her, and she made a tiny choking sound.

**~oOo~**

Doctor Alice Stevens pulled the fabric pad away from Merle's skin with careful fingers, her glasses perched precariously on the tip of her wide nose. She worked in silence, inspecting the wound and wiping away the thick yellow puss which had coagulated around the burnt red skin.

Merle watched her with a hard expression, noting how thus far she had refused to even look at him properly. He hissed as she applied some form of ointment, and she apologized quietly.

"You eve got a clue what's goin' on here, Alice?" Merle asked her in a hollow voice, glaring in her face, daring her to catch his eye.

"I... I don't need to know," Alice tried. "You came here to kill the Governor- you should have know something like this would happen. Don't try for sympathy." She didn't sound at all convinced by what she'd said.

"I didn't come here- he came to the place I was at, shot me and brought me back, just to kill me. And it ain't just me, you know," Merle told her. "They nabbed a girl, too."

"I don't believe you," Alice said. "You- you'd say anything to make me let my guard down, try and make me feel sorry for you-"

"That what he's told ya? You ask him about that girl_. _About_ Laurel._"

Merle's stomach tightened as he said her name- he thought of what might be happening to her, right now- and he hated it. He hated everything- the Governor, this town, himself. Everything apart from her, and he felt a heat within him that he couldn't douse. There was nothing, _nothing_ he wouldn't do to make sure she was safe- he couldn't stop thinking about what was happening to her right now, how she'd be feeling- flashes of vile images span before his eyes, things that made him sick to the stomach.

Alice stood uncomfortably once she had re-dressed the wound, and make quickly for the door.

"You ask him!" Merle called after her, "you ask him about her. Ask him about Laurel."

**~oOo~**

Laurel knelt on the floor in the Governor's apartment, shaking as he continued to move his hand about her face and through the threads of her pale hair. She didn't know what to do- she couldn't move, she couldn't speak, and she definitely couldn't resist his demands- not when Merle's head was on the line.

"Look at me," he demanded, taking her jaw in his hand when she refused and pulling her face level with his. She squirmed involuntarily and he gave her a grotesque smirk, wiping the tear away with his thumb and shushing her as though she were a frightened animal. She pulled away with hostility and he leaned back in his chair, sighing a little as he watched her drained face with his one eye, body completely relaxed, a vile contrast to her own tense nature.

"Please don't," Laurel tried then, refusing to look at him; she imagined Merle down in the warehouses, imagined the threat of death hanging over him if she didn't comply with this man's demands; she saw her hands shake in her lap and tried to control her breathing.

"Turn around," he ordered then, a thick growl to his voice that hand't been there before.

Laurel looked up at him questioningly, her hands shaking still, as he placed the knife down on the side table. With both hands, he gave a gesture which mimicked turning.

Uncertainly, and hating this man with every fiber of her being, Laurel shuffled around until her back was facing him. She heard his hand move to the table beside him and heard the chink of the whiskey glasses. His one hand came down hard upon her pale shoulder, and she fought with her nerves to keep still, though couldn't repress a flinch. There was a horrible heavy dragging sound as the governor picked something up from the table- _the knife._ Laurel held her breath, praying with all her might; his hand moved from her shoulder and up through her hair to the nape of her neck, knuckles working at the join of her spine. She felt him shift as his other hand drew nearer, and had the sudden image of him drawing the blade across her throat flash before her heavy eyes.

_Please, God, don't let him kill me, I don't want to die, I don't want to die…_

Phillip's hand swept up from the back of her neck and he ran his fingers through the blonde strands of her hair. He repeated the motion several times in a pedantic fashion as Laurel remained frozen, expecting some kind of assault any second. His free hand drew close to the side of her head and she flinched away from the blade automatically- as it hit her scalp, however, she found that it was not the letter knife, but a- _a_ _hairbrush? _

Slowly, his hand left her hair and she could hear him working away something to his left. She tried to visualize the layout of the room, but couldn't seem to picture what it might be. The Governor let out a deep sigh, and with a click, the 40's music changed to a cool instrumental, which began to sing throughout the room. **(**)**

Laurel tried to piece together what the hell was going on- she had expected a million things when she'd been brought here- to be beaten, raped, killed… but not this, whatever _'this'_ was.

"Frederic Chopin," Phillip told the girl, returning to brushing Laurel's hair with a delicate hand, "Etude No.3, in E major. This was your mother's favorite."

"…What?" Laurel gulped, turning her head a little. He pulled it back straight sternly, with a force that suggested she'd broken some rule in his game, ignoring her question.

"Chopin," he repeated in the cool voice again. Laurel gulped, froze with the shock that the situation had brought upon her.

"Did you have a good day at school?" he asked gently, smoothing the brush softly over her hair.

Laurel didn't reply, dumbfounded into silence.

"…Honey?"

"I… what are you_ talking_ _about?"_ she asked sharply, utterly confounded by it all. Was this some sort of sick…_ fetish_ or something? Or was bastard really just completely off his mental rocker?

"Did you have a good day at school?"

Laurel stumbled over her thoughts for a second, then slowly decided upon one word.

"…Yes?"

Phillip laughed, a genuine laugh, continuing to brush her hair. "You don't sound so sure about that, lolly pop. What happened, pop quiz or something?"

Laurel couldn't believe what was going on. Uneasily she played along, simply grateful that she hadn't been killed or violated. She answered his questions in the best way she could, appeasing whatever twisted fantasy was playing out in his mind. After a few minutes more of this, he stood up- Laurel's heart jumped instantaneously to her chest, but he moved only to change the disc of the little battery operated stereo. After a few seconds, the little radio burst back into life, and the first few chords of another tune began to hum on the air. **(***) **

Phillip sat back down in the chair, took up the hairbrush again and continued to brush away at Laurel's hair. The occasional thin white or gold strand wisped free of her scalp and danced to the melody in mid-flight for a moment, before falling to the floor and floating above the fibers of the paisley burgundy carpet laid down in the room. Phillip hummed along to the tune absent-mindedly, eventually picking up the tempo and singing along softly.

"When you were a baby," Phillip told her, still brushing away at her hair, "your mom and me used to stand either side of your cot and sing this to you until you fell asleep. It worked every time... but you always preferred Daddy singing it to you. Isn't that right?"

Laurel nodded with a dead pan expression, still rigid, though her body was struggling to cope with the elevated physical responses of her nervous state.

"Mom's gone now," Phillip explained tenderly, his voice thickening and the words sounding as though he had rehearsed then a thousand times over, "but that's okay, even though we miss her all the time. Because Daddy's going to look after you, Penny. Daddy will always keep you safe, okay? Daddy loves you more than anything in the whole wide world."

There was a knock on the door, and Greeley opened it up without conformation.

"Boss- uh-" Greeley took in the scene before him, of Laurel sat there frozen with nerves at the Governor's feat, the gentle music playing as he hovered a hairbrush over her head.

"I- uh- sorry, but Martinez has done like you asked him to- she's downstairs, ready and waiting."

Phillip snapped quickly out of his meditate state. He motioned a hand towards Laurel, placing the hairbrush back on the side and turning off the music. Greeley moved forwards and pulled her to her feet; his leader nodded.

"I'll be down soon enough... just... give me a minute."

Greeley nodded and pulled Laurel back out of the door.

The Governor collapsed back into his seat, his head lowered firmly into his hand. He closed his eyes, drew his hand back through his hair and sobbed.

_I'm sorry, Penny. I'm so, so sorry, my poor little angel..._

**~oOo~**

"You're _boyfriend's_ kicking up a fuss," Greeley drawled at Laurel, "Shump and Allen are beating the crap out of him, I think."

Laurel didn't respond.

"What the fuck was going on there?" Greeley asked her, keeping her close as they moved down the steps.

"Dunno," Laurel told him blankly. "He's crazy. Crazy people to crazy things."

"Didn't he... y'know?"

"Didn't he _what?" _Laurel asked the boy, annoyed at him for asking more than anything. She knew exactly what he had inferred, but decided it was his time to suffer a little bit of torture.

"...Y'know, like... make you _do_ anything?"

"For God's sake, Greeley," Laurel spat at him- the boy was a little shocked that she knew his name, and even more shocked that she was talking to him in such a forward tone. "Learn to say what you mean, stop pussy-footing around it. If you mean _rape,_ say _rape._ You threaten it enough, yet you can't even say what it really is? You're pathetic. Leave me alone."

Much to his own surprise, Dewey found that he didn't retaliate against her words- it had freaked him out a little, having her call him out like that. He kept his distance for the rest of the walk back to the warehouses, didn't ask her again, didn't make any crude comments, didn't even touch her.

"See you later," he mumbled once they had reached her room, allowing Laurel to walk back inside the holding cell rather than pushing her like he had originally intended. She didn't say a word, just moved over to the table in the middle of the room and sat down on its edge, swinging her legs mutely. Greeley muttered something under his breath before slamming shut the door, locking it and disappearing back down the hall.

Merle sat in the other room, face a bloodied pulp- once the Doc had left, he'd started ranting and raving, so Shumpert and Allen had saw fit to beating the crap out of him until he o longer had the energy to be angry, or at least to show it. He sat there, compelled to relief that she'd even returned at all, listening to the nothingness that had followed. He'd expected crying, not silence; the fact she wasn't making a sound worried him even more than if she'd been sobbing her heart out. Even if they'd taped her up, he should still be able to hear her bawling.

"Darlin'?" Merle asked quietly. She didn't respond. "...You alright?"

Laurel looked over to the far wall where she knew Merle to be.

"That was... probably the oddest experience of my life."

Merle stayed quiet, utterly confused. That wasn't right, not at all what he was expecting. _What the fuck had he done to her?_

"...Did he hurt ya, sweetheart?"

"I... no, no- I'm fine. Really. He just..." Laurel didn't seem able to express what had happened. "He's crazier than we thought. Sat me down on the floor in his place. I thought he... well, I thought... but he just put some music on and started brushing my hair, talking to me like I was his little girl... the one who died, I guess. Kept calling me Penny. He was in a sort of trance- It was really creepy."

Merle, though dumbfounded by what had occurred, felt little more than relief- If that bastard had touched her, laid his filthy hands on her like he'd done to Glenn's girl, there weren't even no words for what he'd do to him.

"But you're alright?" Merle asked her, and she affirmed it.

"Yeah... I'm okay." _For now,_ her head told her, and she swallowed the thought back.

"...I'm just fine."

**AN: WELL THAT WAS DUCKING WEIRD**

**GOVERNOR, YOU CRAAAY**

**Rrrrrright then! We hit 300, and you all know what that means- AU stories! Go to my homepage and you'll find the first installment (it's been up since yesterday), the alt. Lerle meet-up that was requested, under _'Imprisoned AU's'_. It's gone down well so far by the messages and reivews people have sent me on it, glad you guys have enjoyed it thus far ;) AND YES, THERE IS A BREAKING BAD REFERENCE! KUDOS POINTS TO THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE FOUND IT/ WILL FIND IT! Hope you all like, let me know if you want that little side-series to continue!**

**Crying Governor tho, can't deny that got to my _'aww but he's just a poor little psychopath'_ feels, as much as I hate his guts. Did this chapter weird you guys out? It really weirded me out writing it *shudders* **

**R&R, magical people!**


	41. Chapter 41: Morals

**AN: ****Had to force myself to upload this because I HATE IT. Not because it's badly written or anything like that, but...**

**oh, _balls._**

**Chapter Forty-Two:**

**Morals**

The Governor stopped Martinez as he got ready to go up on his shift watching the west wall with Greeley. Martinez came to a halt at the base of the wall, and the Governor ran through a series of fundamental niceties before getting to the point.

"It's Karen's funeral today- I'm conducting it."

"I know- I'd be there, but I'm on duty all morning-"

"Oh, don't worry about that- I'm going to ask Braddock to cover your shift. I'd like you, Shumpert and Alan pay a visit to Merle for me instead, if that wouldn't be too much trouble."

"And by '_visit_' you mean...?"

The Governor nodded in affirmation, and Martinez returned the gesture. "What do you want us to find out off him?"

The Governor smirked a little. "Nothing. Just have fun with it."

Martinez nodded again, then asked, "what about the girl? We leaving her alone?"

"I'd like you three to make some sort of an appearance at the funeral, people might get suspicious if you're not there at all, being the esteemed members of the community you are. Someone else can see to her-"

"I'll do it," Greeley offered quickly from the top of the wall- he had been thinking over what the girl had said to him earlier, the way she'd stunned him into silence like that... whatever discomfort and reconsideration over the matter he had felt had been replaced now with anger, a thirst to get back at her somehow for making him feel like an idiot. The Governor nodded at the young boy, his newest protégée and Merle's replacement; the kid was a hand full and liked to run his mouth, but he was a good soldier and got things done- _much like Merle had, _Phillip thought. As Martinez headed off to find Shumpert and Alan, the Governor gave Greeley his instructions, gesturing for the boy to come down off the wall for a moment whilst he did so.

"Take your time," he instructed last of all in a cool whisper, tapping the boy on the back in an encouraging manner, "don't get too carried away, though. Take Dean with you too, and someone else- Jody, Maybe- not Ben, not Zack. Definitely not Jacob. They haven't quite got the stomach for it yet, I don't think... might not agree with the handling of the situation. She'll put up a fight, I should imagine- you'll need a hand holding her down."

Greeley smirked, nodding and walking off in the direction of the warehouses.

**~oOo~**

"You best let me out of this damn cage!" Daryl screamed up against the bars of his cell in the prison, where the group had see it fit to contain him until his senses returned. He had not been awake long, phasing in and out of sleep, but the times he had awoken in the past few hours all brought the same thing. The group had sent Beth and Carl out on watch so that they wouldn't have to listen to his erratic abuse.

"It's for your own good," Rick told Daryl from across the block, where he was crouched down beside Glenn and Maggie drawing up a rescue plan for Laurel and Merle.

"I'm goin' to get my brother!" Daryl roared, "and that girl, you just let 'em take them, you people can't stop me-!"

"Daryl, please!" Carol called, "just calm down, you're going to hurt yourself-!"

"Don't tell me to calm down, you _fucking-!_"

"Watch your tongue!" Hershel called at him, and Daryl directed a fusillade of half-sensical abuse in the older man's direction. Axel called him up on his vulgar nature, and Daryl changed the abuses course to Axel; his head began to pound, the concussion getting to him again, and he sat carefully on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands.

"Just let me out," he tried, exhausted as he fought to stay awake- his head felt so heavy and his limbs were aching wildly, pounding from the car accident he and Merle had been involved in. Daryl thought of Michonne, of the bullet she'd taken by Merle's hand, and hoped that she'd be alright; he didn't really know the woman, did't like her all that much, either, but she'd brought Judy's food and had been helpful thus far- it wasn't right, letting the Governor have her. He'd gone to stop it, to set things straight, and now he had her anyway.

"He'll kill her," Daryl said, "Michonne. He'll kill them all, we can't just sit here-!"

"We ain't just sittin' here," Rick called, "we're making a plan of action- now, you can either help out, Daryl, or you can keep screamin' the walls down, running your mouth and being help at all."

"Fine," Daryl said, his head straightening out a little, "but you let me out. I'm tellin ya, let me out."

"You gonna be calm?"

"Yeah."

Rick stood from where they were drawing up their plans and headed over to Daryl's cell- he pulled the key from his pocket, lodged it in the lock and twisted, pulling open the door- the second he did, Daryl lunged at him, grabbing him by the hair and pulling his head down, punching Rick in the side of the face twice over- Axel made a grab for him, eye already black from their encounter yesterday, and Maggie grabbed hold of him by the hair, pulling him back with her hand across his chest. The two stood there holding him as Rick got to his feet.

"You let 'em take him!" Daryl roared at Rick, "it was _you!"_

"We couldn't have stopped him!" Glenn called, "we couldn't even get past the gate, for gods sake-"

"What, and you couldn't just shoot the son of a bitch?!"

"With a sword around Laurel's neck?" Rick coughed, "there was nothing we could have done. All we can do is decide what we're gonna do _now_, before something happens-"

"Something's already fucking happened!" Daryl roared, "Merle's been shot, for Gods sake, Michonne too, and-!"

"Michonne?" Maggie questioned, "she's been shot?!"

"Yeah, Merle did it," Daryl explained, and carried on before the group could question it. "The three of them have been kidnapped! They could all be dead already, or worse-!"

"Screamin' ain't gonna help no one," Rick tried, ignoring the thumping in his face from where Daryl had attacked him, "now you calm the hell down, or you're goin' back inside. You calm?"

"...Yeah."

"And you ain't gonna try rearrangin' my face this time?"

"...No."

"Good." Axel and Maggie released Daryl cautiously, but he didn't fling himself at Rick like they half expected. Instead he hobbled over to Glenn, leg still in agony from the heavy bruising and muscle strain there, and snatched the chalk from him, rubbing away all of the group's previous plans. Daryl began to etch away at the cell block floor with the pastel.

"This is how we wanna do it..."

**~oOo~**

Karen's funeral was a simple affair. The residents of Woodbury gathered around the east wall, where Gideon Braddock and Colton Collins had spent the morning burying her body a little further out of the wall, watched over by Ben and Jacob.

"Karen was a valued member of our community," the Governor went on, Andrea and Milton stood either side of him as he delivered his eulogy, "she helped us through the most difficult times and was there with us to enjoy the best of them. Her commitment to helping our community, keeping us all safe, was outstanding- she was an inspiration to everyone here, I'm sure you'll all agree."  
The group muttered in agreement, tears of the faces of several of the residents, but absent on those of most- everyone had become so immune to loss that allowing themselves to feel over another might just be the end of them. Karen's son, Noah, stood shaking through his sobs curled under the arm of a lank-haired resident named Rose, who was trying her best to comfort him but failing miserably.

"She was a fighter, a impeccably loving mother, but most of all she was a _survivor,_ right until the end. She died protecting us from those who would seek to hurt our community- our children, our friends. And I promise you, each and every one of you here, we will not let her have died in vain- nor Richard, or Warren, not Tim or Crowley, Gargulio or Haley. We have suffered and we have lost, but we will go on, because Woodbury, you people, we people, we are stronger than this. We will come together and we will mourn, we will grieve and we will suffer but we will _survive,_ just as Karen did. And this rabid group, these _animals_ who did this- they _will_ pay for what they've done here. I promise you that I will not rest until we have eliminated the threat and Woodbury lives in peace once more- you have my word."

The group stood silently, until the Governor closed his eye and gestured to where Nick Parsons stood, an older man.

"Nick, could you say a prayer to conclude the ceremony, please?"

The entire group, both those with and without faith, closed their eyes respectfully as Nick concluded the short funeral, docile tones drifting on the warm afternoon air. The Governor opened up his eye coldly and stared hard at the heat-stricken sky.

**~oOo~**

An hour later Merle spat blood onto the hard ground, face covered in red. He couldn't see through his left eye, as it had closed itself almost completely shut and one of his vessels had burst, glaring his vision with a watery crimson. Martinez and Shumpert had beaten the living shit out of him, and every half-second his eyes were blacking out with the force of his pulse. Shumpert left the room, murmuring something about Greeley, and Merle raised his head to Martinez, who was trying his best not to look at the man.

"Talk to me, Martinez," Merle gargled, spitting out blood onto the floor beneath. Somehow he'd managed to keep all his teeth thus-far, though he'd bitten down hard on his tongue with one punch and could now feel a puncture which had split a crater into the muscle. Merle swirled some of the blood around his mouth before spitting again.

"Look, man-" Martinez tried, unable to hide his guilt. Jackass as he was, Merle had been his friend, and to do this to him- knowing what they were going to do with that girl- it was... _difficult._ The younger man bowed his head, rubbing it with the heels of his hands. "You know this is nothing personal-"

"Cut to the chase. What does he wanna know?"

Caesar was unsure as to how he should reply- after a moment more of thought he shrugged, "Nothing."

Merle nodded his head. "Thought as much. Wants us dead. All of us."

"Blood for blood," Martinez explained.

"_Dead_ blood," Merle interrupted, referring to Penny, the Governor's daughter. "The kid was dead before 'Chonne put her out of her misery, and now that mad bastard's gonna kill us all because of it."

"It's a mess," Martinez agreed, shaking his head. "And he doesn't just want you all gone and have it done and dusted- he said that to me last night, that's why we left the prison when we did, with just you two. He's gonna keep going back there- pick you all off a bit at a time in the worst ways he can think of, make sure Rick's last so that he gets to see it all."

"Don't let him do it," Merle said. "There might me some dick-wads in that group, but none of them deserve this... you could put a bullet through his head, stick a knife in his back, it'd all be over-"

"I ain't gonna do that. This place needs a leader-"

"Then why not _you?"_ Merle coaxed, "you get rid of that fuck head, you can have this place, this whole town. I've been at the prison- I know you all think they're ravin', that they're out to kill each and every one of ya stone dead, but it ain't like that. If you could see 'em- they're just scared outta their minds-"

"-Good."

"They just wanna be left alone... It's all _him._ All of this shit is the Governor, you can see that, right?"

"…He's the boss," Martinez said with a certain finality. "What he says goes."

"Blind faith," Merle muttered at him, "y'know, you're startin' to remind me of my little brother."

There was a long silence then. Eventually Merle asked, in the coldest voice he could manage,

"They killed her yet?"

Martinez remembered the girl and felt even worse. _Jesus... she was just a kid._

"No. No, she's… she's alive."

"…They done anythin' to her?"

Martinez lowered his eyes to the ground. "You mean like-?"

"-You know what I'm fuckin' askin', man."

Caesar found it difficult to reply.

"Not yet, but… they're gonna, I think. That cocky little shit Greeley's been going on about it- Gov's told him they can have her once he's done with the two of you. At least that's what he seems to think, anyway."

Merle could barely contain himself.

"And you're gonna let that happen?!"

"…Ain't up to me, man. Gov's given is orders. I'm sorry."

"It ain't me you should be apologisin' to!" Merle spat, "tell you what, why don't you go in there, look in her face, talk to her for a little while. See how sweet a kid she is, how damn scared she is and how much she don't deserve none of this _shit,_ and then you tell _her_ how sorry you are- maybe that'll lift some of the weight off your shoulders when you're lyin' safe and sound in your nice comfortable bed at night thinkin' about how you let a girl get fucked 'cuz that crazy bastard gave it the thumbs up. At least you were fucking _sorry_ about it-!"

"You're talking like this is the first time something like this has ever happened," Martinez rebuked him, "what about those girls out on raids?! We all knew what was going down then, you included- And that girl and her boyfriend you brought back when you went off looking for Michonne… we both knew what was gonna go down once he stepped in that room. And did we step in then? No. Because you just _don't._ The world is the way it is now, and that's the way it's gonna be from now on- so don't act like this is any different just because you actually _care _about this one. She's the same as all the others, and it's gonna be the same for her as it was for those girls on the raids, the ones we all pretended we couldn't hear screaming and crying just a few yards from where we'd parked the damn trucks. They'll fuck her until they're bored, then they'll put a bullet in the back of her skull- that's the way it was, that's the way it is, and that's exactly the way it's gonna be for your little blonde friend. And don't you dare fucking act like it's any different. Don't you fucking _dare._"

Martinez stood then, trying his best to ignore Merle as he hurled abuse at him. He made for the door, opened it up briskly, and charged out; at the end of the corridor stood Greeley, flanked either side by Dean and one of the other younger boys. Martinez gave him a quick, understanding nod, and the boy held out a strip of Duct tape to him, glued to the end of his finger. Martinez took the thing, shaking his head a little, and walked back inside the store house where they were keeping Merle; blocking out his protests, Martinez stapled the piece of tape across Merle's mouth, unable to resist due to his arms being locked away from him.

"Sorry, man," Martinez said again, standing quickly and making his way out, pushing past Greeley and his little gang as he went.

"Martinez," Greeley called back, "where's the-?"

"Don't fucking talk to me, you little shit," Martinez growled, disappearing out of the warehouse block and avoiding the boy like a pariah.

"What's got up his ass?" Greeley murmured, then remembered Merle- he smirked to himself, swaggering into the room and kneeling down a little further from the man than was probably necessary in his bound state.

"Sorry about the tape," he mused, "but the Governor doesn't want you missing out on any of this- if you keep shouting your head off, you're not gonna get the full picture. Won't be able to _visualize _it properly." He stood then, winking at Merle and sweeping from the room. "Enjoy the show," he grinned. Merle stared at the door, and heard their footsteps cross to the next store room; the one where Laurel was being kept.

_No. _

**~oOo~**

"I'm not doing this, man," Dean decided uneasily, shaking his head with a tight expression as Greeley fiddled with the keys. The boy turned to his friend with a questioning expression and said,

"Oh, come on. You're pussying out on me?"

"It ain't about _'pussyin' out,'_" Dean protested, "she's just a girl-"

"_So?"_

"Whatta ya mean_, 'so'_? ...It just ain't right, is it?"

"Again- _so?_"

Dean shook his head. "You're gonna enjoy it, as well," he said, a little disgusted. "You're sick, man."

"Fuck off then, Dean," Greeley sneered, finding the right key, "I'm sure there's some crocheting you can be getting on with... come back when you grow a pair."  
Dean shook his head again, heading off in the direction of the town.

"Pussy," Greeley muttered to the other boy, turning the key in the lock; Laurel reeled as the door opened up. She sprang instantly to her feet upon hearing Greeley's voice outside, and glared him down as he stepped in.

"What have you done to Merle?!" Laurel demanded, "I could hear you earlier, you've beat the crap out of him, haven't you-!?"

Neither of the two said a word for a long moment; the second of the Governor's men stepped in, and Laurel made to protest- Greeley gestured to his accomplice, and swiftly the two walked across room and cuffed Laurel beneath the arms, her hands and legs scratching at them through rage and desperation. Laurel kicked and screamed as the pair lifted her across the room and slammed her face-down on the table; hands either side of her flipped her upright, pinning her to the as she screamed and struggled, kicking out at Greeley, who stood at the end of the upright board.

"Get off me-!"

"Can you shut her up?" He asked his partner; the boy nodded and clamped his hand down over Laurel's mouth and she gnashed her teeth at his meaty hand.

"Gah!" he shouted a few seconds later, "bitch fucking _bit _me!"

"Yeah, she does that," Greeley told him, ignoring Laurel's screams as he moved backwards to find the reel of duct tape they'd brought in with them, "gotta watch out for the teeth on 'em, that's what pops always said… can't find the damn bastard end," he muttered, scratching at the roll with his short fingernails; eventually he found it and tore a rough piece of the tape off, struggling to detach it from the rest of the reel. "Hold her head still," Greeley ordered; with her now free hand Laurel smacked him in the side of the head, and he crushed the hand under his knee on the table, plastering the pewter tape over Laurel's mouth. "That's better," Greeley sighed. "You're a lot nicer to look at when you _shut the fuck up_. Now... down to business."

Laurel buckled away from him, trying her best to sit herself straight, but it was no use; every time she tried, the two of them would manage to hold her back in place pinned to the table by her arms and, after kicking Greeley quickly in the face, he grabbed her legs. His greedy hands slid up her calves and hiked her yellow dress up over her thighs, exposing the white skin beneath the fabric and causing her to screech beneath the gag even more, growling viciously with watery eyes as he grabbed hold of the waist band of her black leggings and pulled them away from her legs, yanking them off her and dropping them near where Maggie's abandoned vest lay. Laurel screamed hopelessly, tears pricking her eyes as she fought to break free.

"Who needs Dean?" Greeley muttered to his accomplice as he grabbed something from the table behind him.

"Keep still," he snarled, grabbing hold of Laurel's left thigh and kneeling himself up on the table between her legs, "...that way it won't hurt as much."

**AN: _Grim._**

******I am so not looking forward to posting the next chapter (which I will do on Wednesday for you delightful muffins), **

**R&R, Implets!**


	42. Chapter 42: Bite

_**AN: **_**This chapter was originally going to be left out, but I've slotted it in for you little sadists...**

**I love to hate Greeley's dialogue in this bit- no I don't, I just hate it. Like, seriously, it's... urgh. This entire chapter is basically a 3000+ word torture scene, just to make you hate him even more. DIE GREELEY DIE.**

**Chapter Forty-Three:**

**Bite**

_"Keep still," Greeley snarled, grabbing hold of Laurel's left thigh and kneeling himself up on the table between her legs, "...that way it won't hurt as much."_

Laurel kicked her leg out in resistance and Greeley leaned over her, grabbing her by the hair.

"How the hell are we supposed to get anything done if you keep fucking messing about, Laur?" he said in a horribly comfortable voice, drawing out the pet name and pinning back her head as she screamed from beneath the gag, buckling up in desperation. Greeley could hear Merle from the room beside them now, his muffled roars ringing through the small warehouse room, his feet kicking out heavily at the floor- he smirked, leaning closer to Laurel as she fought against him and whispered right in her ear, "besides. We're not gonna_ fuck _you- well, not _yet,_ anyway. Gov says we're gonna save all that for later- don't tell Merle though, that's our little secret, just between you, me and the Gov, okay? We'll mess with the old man's head a little bit first before we get down to the really good stuff... should be fun, don't you think? Gov'll do whatever it is he's got planned tonight with you and the old man- something big, by the looks of it. I think he's gonna kill him, you know. Put a bullet straight through his head, or maybe let a Biter have him? I dunno... what do you think?"

Laurel continued to shriek at him under the duct tape and he teased her, "sorry? Couldn't quite catch that... you should really speak up, you know. _Enunciate _a little more... it's very endearing. Anyway, Dixon will be out of the picture and then we can really go to town... cuz that's the only reason you're still alive, really, isn't it? I mean, you're only here in the first place because that old prick wants to fuck you to high heaven and back again... or has he already? Ugh. Don't answer that. I've got a nice little vision of you all built up in my head now and I don't want it ruined by that prick. After that, the Gov doesn't give a shit on a stick what happens to you, so long as no-one in the town ever catches wind you were here. So I'll tell you what we'll do- we'll come back in here once he's dead, just the two of us, and I'll get you back up on this table and we'll have some_ real _fun- get past these cute little panties you're wearing- lilac is definitely your colour," he growled with a smirk, pinging the elastic up by her stomach. "My reward for all the hard work I've been putting in lately around here since your boyfriend in there turned traitor and abandoned us all. You might not like what we get up to at first, babe, but I'm sure you'll get into it as we go along- besides, it's more fun if you put up a _bit _of a fight-"

"Greeley, are we doing this or not?" the other boy asked, clearly not comfortable with the way this was going- Jesus, he'd expected they'd just go in and do what they'd been told to to the girl, never figured Dewey had some sort of _vendetta _against her, whoever she was. "Come on, man."

"What, your arms getting tired from holding her for five minutes?! If you can't cope now, Connor, how are you gonna pin her when we start laying in to her? ...That's the thing, you see, Dollface," Greeley continued to Laurel, still quiet so that Merle wouldn't hear and bearing down upon her, "we're saving the fun stuff for later, all we're gonna do is screw you up a bit. Think of it as an... illusion. All just for show, with the Governor's regards. You can say goodbye to these pretty thighs of yours-" he gave the top of her right leg a quick squeeze and slapped it, "-might ruin the fun a little bit later, but I'm sure we can get over that."

Greeley pulled the knife he'd grabbed earlier from the side of the table and used the corner fabric of Laurel's dress to shine it quickly, being sure she could see the blade. Laurel shrieked, trying to pull back, as Greeley sat up and bent her leg back a little, causing the white skin of her left thigh to go taught- he pinned her leg to the work surface with his knee and touched the cold steel at a rough horizontal angle just in the space where her thigh began to curve inwards.

"Brace yourself," he muttered to her, twisting the blade against her skin in a circular motion, "remember what I said- if you struggle you'll only make it worse... and remember to scream as loudly as you can. I'm sure your boyfriend will appreciate it."

With that he dug the steel into her flesh- Laurel instinctively tried to pull away, yelling out in a scream which she couldn't restrain, jolting Greeley's juxtaposition and causing the cut to fall at a jagged angle up to where the skin of her left thigh began to disappear beneath the lilac fabric of her underclothes.

"Oh, well fucking done," Greeley muttered, pulling the blade loose for a second, "now you've messed it up. Guess I'll just have to start again..." He dug the blade back inside the opening of the wound, pressing a little deeper, and drew another thick line across Laurel's pale skin, the base of his hand becoming sticky with blood. Laurel struck her knee up into his groin and Greeley reeled, leaning back a little as she locked her legs around his waist to stop him moving- she leaned forward as he went to pull back, cursing under his breath, and she headbutted him straight in the face, drawing blood.

"Fucking hell!" Greeley yelled then grabbed her legs and pushed her away, slamming her lower body hard against the table. Laurel's eyes locked onto his for a flitting moment as she struggled beneath Connor's grip, filled with more rage than fear or pleading- then he leant back over as she fought him off, smacked her up the face and kneed her straight in the stomach. He grabbed hold of her by the scruff of her dress and hauled her from the table, removing her from Connor's hold and ignoring her screams, throwing her down onto the ground where she banged her head against the flooring. She tried to get to her feet but he pushed her back down again, growling- he kicked her in the side and hauled her up straighter, ramming her against the back wall with a meteoric force. Laurel heard a click through the pounding in her head and realized he had pulled a gun; Laurel's shriek was ended by a quick smack to the face and his free hand tied into her hair, tugging the yellow strands from their roots. She scrambled weakly from him, the buckle of the hair band around her wrist slicing a thin cut beneath his eye as she fought to get him away from her.

"You know," he growled, pressing the arm holding the gun against her neck, "I'm not usually a violent person, but right about now I kinda want to pin you down and_ scrape off your skin with a cheese grater._"

Laurel gave a shriek as he dragged on her hair even tighter, and there was a cruel ripping sound as a handful of strands detach from her scalp. "On your knees," he spat, pulling harder as she cried out in protest. He hit her in the side of the head with the steel of the gun's hilt and she slumped to her scuffed knees, utterly dazed, a hot red sensation running down from her ear. Laurel choked as he pushed the barrel of the gun against her forehead, releasing her hair and bending down to her level- He slid the gun around and rested it on her bleeding temple, his finger flicking teasingly on the barrel.

"BANG!" He roared, jolting the gun against her head and causing her to shudder. As she cried aloud he laughed more, grinding the gun against her skull and opening the bleeding wound further. When his guttural laughter died, the serious expression bathed his mutilated features again and he whistles lowly, twisting the gun.

"Y'know, I'm not usually a fan of guns," he husked, "using them is just... cheating. I mean, if you're gonna kill someone, gotta go full throttle, right?"

Laurel clutched the ashen fabric of her dress and squeezed her eyes tighter together, blocking out the face in front of her. She flexed her hands to find the rough grate of concrete, studs of grit embedded into her palms- her blood thumped so rapidly that she could hear it in her temples, feel it pounding in her neck. She let her head against the wall as he pulled at the threads of her hair. Laurel gave a little gasp of pain as she suffered another hit, this time to her collar bone- she gasped, winded, suddenly unable to remain upright, and slumped a little against the wall. Laurel gave a grunt of pain as his elbow made violent contact with my temple, pushing him away with her clutching fingers as he tied his fingers through her hair and pulled her head back as far as he could manage.

"There. Give you a few seconds to recover, make sure you really _feel _the next one, and..."

His fist slammed into Laurel's side, then he pulled back and digged at her chest, once, twice; he dropped her to the floor, using his legs rather than his hands to cause damage. The abuse altered between kicks and fists; as Laurel screamed; she began to numb, her body refusing to acknowledge the attack any longer. He stamped on her leg and she screeched in agony.

"Jesus, man, that's enough!" Connor cried from the other side of the room, not sure whether or not he ought physically intervene.

"We're just getting started," Greeley scalded him, turning back to Laurel.

"The question is," he began, bending to her level and prodding her in her bruised stomach- Laurel gave a hiss beneath the tape as he produced the knife from behind himself. "What-should-we-do-now?!" Laurel clenched her fists and bit back her tongue as with every syllable, he cut a thin gash into the outer of her arm with the switchblade, horizontally across the cut created by Merle's own bayonet. He grinned, pushing the blade against the corner of her mouth, over the tape there and asked, "you ever seen a Glasgow being cut, Laur?" He traced the lines up her face with the blade hovering over her skin. "...Nasty business. I've only ever seen it on TV, but it looks hella gross. How's about we finish off our game with a nice big smile?!" He clicked his tongue and pressed the blade close against her cheek. She shook her head carefully, panic in her eyes as he pushed her back against the wall.

"No?" He taunted, prodding her again in her sore stomach and toying with the knife. She pushed him away roughly as his hand found her leg, and somehow managed to slip past him, skimming around the table so that she and Greeley were stood at it's opposing ends facing each other.

"What, we playing kiss chase ow, babe?" he taunted her, veering slightly to the left; Laurel took the opposite direction as he continued to mark her. Laurel saw Connor standing to her left, looking utterly befuddled.

"You gonna make yourself useful and grab her, Con?!" Greeley snapped at him, and Connor shook his head a little.

"I don't think this is what the Gov asked us to do-"

"I'm taking the initiative," Greeley rebuked him, "now will you do as your fucking told and just grab her?!"

Connor shook his head. "Dean was right, man, we shouldn't-"

"Oh, fuck off," Greeley snapped, "who are you, Lord of the Dance? This ain't no Broadway show, Connor. We get by by doing this sorta shit, and if you've gotta do it, might as well enjoy it, don't you think?"

"...He just said cut her legs-"

Greeley swore again, and Lunged quickly at Laurel from the side of the table, taking hold of her by the hair and wrestling her face-down to the floor. Laurel screamed, her head banging off the concrete again, vision darkening- she was aware of him grabbing her up, of Merle's vacant roars from the next room and Connor's dwindling protests, of her own screams and Greeley's taunts- her vision blurred, her body begging for a comatose state, and when her senses returned she found that she was lying face-down against the concrete flooring, Greeley above her and having some sort of one-sided debate with Connor. Their argument simmered and the door to the room opened up- Laurel glanced up desperately with prayers of salvation, which were dashed as she saw Connor's figure step out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"Tell me, Laur," Greeley started, turning her over by the shoulder with a heated mutter and pressing her into the ground with his knees, straddling her bruised hips as she squirmed, "why are all of my mates fucking_ light weights?"_

His hand forced back her own above her head, his forearm across her forehead, rendering her incapable of movement; Laurel lay frozen for a moment, staring up into his quick eyes- she watched in horror as she saw the anger in his glare change to something sinister which she'd never seen there before; something _hungry._ It terrified her more than anything else she had encountered in him- for a second she couldn't make it out, but then it clicked.

"Looks like I won kiss chase," he smirked and ripped the tape from her mouth, thrusting his knee up between her legs- Laurel choked out a scream, which was silenced as his lips clamped against her own, his tongue immediately invading her mouth; she thrashed desperately and force a pitiful cry, giving a muffled scream as he bit down hard on her tongue, hard enough to fill her mouth with a strong metallic tang that signified he had drawn blood. He pulled back, ignoring her breathless cries, his hand moving from her wrists- she swore sharply at him, smacking him in the side of his face- he took hold of her wrists in his large hands again, pushing them down against her chest and glaring down at her, his eyes trailing her body with that same hungry expression as before; they stopped at her chest and he smirked slightly. Angry, terrified and humiliated, Laurel jaunted her body upwards into his own in an attempt to get him off, but it did no good, only served to further agitate him.

"You're putting up more of a fight than I expected," he growled huskily, his free hand finding the neck of her dress and ripping it downwards slightly, "figured you were the type who'd just lie back and take it like a bitch... what is it they say? Lie back and think of England..."

His hand left her neckline and snaked down her side, sliding against the silken fabric covering her right leg and riding it upwards, causing the fabric to stick against the bloodied open wounds on her thighs. Her muffled screams become louder and she somehow struggled harder, managing to break free one of her hands and pump it against the side of his head with as much force as she could muster- he pulled back and his lips find my neck, sending a shiver through her body which only served to make her angry with herself. Laurel screamed something not even she was able to distinguish, Merle's yells still ringing in her mind, and the hand holding back her own changed tactics and came to a rest over her mouth. Both hands now free, she attempted to force him off herself, but to no avail. Still unmoving, the boy began to laugh mustily, his breath hot against her throat he ran his tongue up the side of her neck beneath her ear and bit into the skin there, drawing up blood to the surface, his hand moving underneath her dress and across her chest.

Laurel shrieked pointlessly and his hand smacked the side of her face, sending a spray of blood across the hard stone floor- she reached to block his next blow but he hit her squarely in the jaw and she began to see stars again. Greeley rooted himself back around her waist and pressed himself against her. In her rapidly darkening vision, Laurel was able to see the steel glint of the bloodied switchblade back in his hand and managed a weak cry in protest, which evolved into a hysterical scream as she felt the blade sear through the skin of her undamaged leg.

"No!" she half-commanded, half-pleaded, as he dug the knife deeper into the flesh of her inner thigh. Laurel pulled her leg away instinctively, screaming louder as the blade drew across it. She felt the blood running down her legs and half-sobbed, half-screamed like a madwoman. Laurel squirmed underneath him in revulsion as he laughed a little, his lips pressing lightly against her undamaged temple. Relief flooded her as she felt his weight move from above her body, and he pulled her up to her feet, pinning her arms as he tucked the knife into his pocket and straightened out the hem of her dress.

"Let's get a look at you," he said, eyeing her legs and stepping back a little, "oh... perfect. Looks like we've really fucked you up hard-core. Dixon is gonna _love_ that." He pushed her away from himself and she jolted against the back wall, her hands failing to catch herself as she held herself there shakily. Greeley moved quickly to the door as though she may turn and pounce on him. "Hope you enjoyed that little taster of what's to come- see you later, doll face. You stay here, you don't make a sound," Greeley growled at her as he wiped the drizzle of blood off the blade with his shirt sleeve, listening to her poorly suppressed cries for a moment before roaring, "or I'll come back and_ really _give you something to cry about!"

The door clicked and Laurel lay in the darkness, sobbing quietly through shock as she listened to Merle's violent roars from the room beside her.

**AN: And... there we have it. How unpleasant. I cannot even begin to describe my Greeley-rage, there are just no words. GAHHH**

**As I said earlier, folks, keep an eye out for the next chapter tomorrow- I've just made the finishing touches... and, as big-headed as it may sound... I LOVE IT.**

**Arrivederci!**

**- Wiza x**


	43. Chapter 43: Finale

**AN: 100 FOLLOWERS! Yay! That's another milestone, bros and h*es, and that means It's time to provide you all with celebratory AU gifts! I'll upload the next one, part 1 of Laurel's back story, tomorrow :)**

******One of you lovely little Implets messaged me a while back asking what WD fics with Merle I would recommend y'all to read. Obviously I would recommend this one (;D) but we all know that I am not the greatest writer in the world and that you're already reading_ 'Imprisoned'_ anyway. MUAHAHAHA. Now It's not often I read fics, but when I do, I only settle for the crème de la ****crème**- and so, I have complied a little list of my top three Merle-related stories in the end AN for your enjoyment (with the permission of their authors, of course- all very nice_ (i'm assuming they are all of the feminine persuasion)_ Ladies, a delight to converse with when I asked them), ******BUT DON'T GO AND ENJOY THEM JUST YET. YOU HAVE A CHAPTER TO READ. ...And something tells me you're going to like this one.**

_**Last chapter I traumatized you all, and myself. As for this chapter... well... you'll see. 6000 words of this face- 0_0**_

**Chapter Forty-Three:**

**Finale**

Jacob Gallagher ran from his post on the outer wall besides the far-out warehouses, abandoning Zack there and sprinting to where the sound had come from. There had been screaming, quiet but definitely a woman screaming, not too long ago- had a Walker got over the fence? Or maybe one of those wackos from the prison? He pulled the rifle the Governor had issued him with and held it close to his shoulder as he reached the alley down to the warehouses.

"Woah there, sonny Jim," Greeley smirked, still limping a little from his confrontation with the woman who'd got over the fence, the one who had killed Karen.

"Did you hear that?!" Jacob asked, "me and Zack were up on the wall, we heard a girl screaming-!"

"Relax, man. I've been up here the whole time- no screaming. You must be going a little bit crazy." Greeley laughed and hit Jacob in the shoulder. Jacob noticed that he looked a little flustered, cheeks red and hair aloof. His face was swollen a little on the right hand side and he had a thin red laceration along his cheekbone."I

"What happened to your face?"

"What?" Greeley touched his fingers to where the pain was and found the blood there. "Oh... nothing, don't worry about it, man. Come on, I'll come up on watch with ya. Looks like you could need some help if you're hallucinating screaming girls… either that or you need to blow one out. Let's go."

Uneasily, looking back over his shoulder at the warehouses, Jacob allowed himself to be lead away by the younger man, very certain indeed that it hadn't just been _'nothing.'_

**~oOo~**

Merle could feel himself shaking. He had been the same ever since that Greeley bastard and his friend had locked up Laurel's store room and their footsteps had deteriorated; she had screamed from inside there the entire time they were in there- it couldn't have been long, he realized, but it had felt like a lifetime, hearing her in so much distress ad not being able to do anything, not move, not eve scream or shout because of the damn tape across his face. She had stopped screaming now, but was crying, that he could hear; despite the tape that had muffled her cries and the thick aluminium walls, he could still hear it. It rang in his head and shook his bones with rage, utter wrath that he could do nothing, that that little bastard had been able to hurt her and that he'd got away with it.

Martinez' world came to the front of Merle's mind;

_She's the same as all the others, and it's gonna be the same for her as it was for those girls on the raids... _

No-

_...They'll fuck her until they're bored, then they'll put a bullet in the back of her skull..._

If they fucking touch her again- if they kill her-

_...That's the way it was, that's the way it is, and that's exactly the way it's gonna be for your little blonde friend..._

No-

_And don't you dare fucking act like it's any different._ _Don't you fucking dare._

This _was _different- this was _Laurel._ Maybe not to anyone else, to everyone else she was just some kid, exactly the same as the first time he'd met her- just some kid with a decent body who he wouldn't mind having a quick fuck with then forgetting about. But she was more than that now, so much more, and this couldn't be happening, not to her. He had told himself he wouldn't let it happen- how many times had he thought he'd rather shoot her himself than let any of these men get anywhere close to hurting her? Yet here he was, barely three feet from where she would be, lay in that room sobbing her heart out because he'd let them get her. He'd let her down, and it was his damn fault for all of this. Everything he had done since leaving Atlanta, every little move and decision had lead him to this moment, sat here, hating himself and the whole damn world, hating everything and everyone apart from that girl, that poor little sobbing thing in the yellow dress that he had let down, over and over again until it had lead to this. And there was nothing, nothing he could do to change it, to make things right and make her better, because it was too late...

_Far too late._

**~oOo~**

Dr Stevens stood outside the opening to the warehouses, her hands held tightly together; she had come with the intention of re-dressing Merle's wounds, but Martinez had insisted that it wouldn't be necessary. When she had questioned his meaning he had told her to back the hell off and mind her own business, so she had resolved to stand here, at the mouth of the warehouse alley, and wait for the Governor.

Soon enough he appeared, Allen at his side, pressed black shirt and pants lying close against his lean body as he made his way through to see Michonne; as he came closer, looking utterly disinterested in whatever Allen had to offer, Alice stepped out from her position and greeted him.

"Sir."

"Alice," he called, a little surprised, "can I help you?"

"Yes," she began, "your men are refusing to let me in there to clean up Merle's shoulder- it's a deep wound, if It's not cleaned regularly there's a risk of infection-"

"You don't need to worry about that anymore," Phillip smiled, wrapping his arm over her shoulder and beginning to lead her back down the alley and into the main body of the town, away from where Milton remained, "you've done a wondrous job, thank you so much for your assistance- of course my whiskey will be sorely missed, but I suppose we all have to make sacrifices..." The Governor laughed, but Alice was not satiated.

"...Is he dead?"

"What?" Phillip tried, looking shocked that she could ever think such a thing of him, "of course not- what would make you think such a thing? No, no, he's just fine- we're waiting for him to feel better,then-"

"Who's Laurel?"

The Governor stopped dead in his tracks and looked over at her.

"I'm_ sorry?"_

"...Laurel. Merle said there was a girl, that her name was Laurel."

He smiled. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Alice watched him carefully, stepped away from his hold and headed back to the town.

The Governor turned, the smile dropping dangerously from his face and said to Allen,

"Follow her."

******~oOo~**

At nightfall Shumpert, Alan and Martinez appeared outside the door of Merle's warehouse. They untied him from the top bar, dragged him out back and to one of the larger warehouses the next row down. They tied him again, this time to a stack of heavy rail way timber planks. The Governor appeared a few minutes later, Milton Mamet and Greeley at his heels, each carrying a pail of water, of which Greeley's was boiled and Milton's chilled; when Milton asked what the water was for Phillip told him not to concern himself with worrying about that, that the experience would be educational, and dismissed Alan, who went quickly without question; when it came to Greeley's time to leave, he resisted. Had Merle been able to move, he would have ripped the boys throat out without a moment to spare- the kid was going to die in the worst way he could come up with, and the Governor would be joining him I his fate. The boy kept throwing Merle a wry look as though there was something the two of them knew exclusively, and the horrid expression made Merle's anger towards him increase.

"Eager, this one," the Governor said, gesturing to the boy as he hovered reluctantly in the doorway. "Keen to learn."

"Sure am- go on, boss, let me stay."

The Governor agreed, and decided it was time to take the tape from Merle's mouth; he did it himself, slowly dragging the piece away so that it strained and tore at the man's lips. Merle flooded the boy with a torrent of abuse the second he was able to speak, telling him all the things he had planned for him, before spitting in the Governor's face.

"I'll kill you," Merle hissed, "mark it, you're dead- what you let that little shit-bag do to her, you'll_ die_ for it. Start countin' your hours, 'cuz I'm gonna kill ya, both of ya, if it's the last thing I ever do."

Merle spat at him again.

"Manners," the Governor reminded him, standing and turning on his heel, wiping the offending water from himself. "I'm sorry it's come to this, Merle, believe me-"

"Fuck you."

"This could help us secure relations between the two camps," Milton piped up, as though to reassure himself more than anyone else, "… If we can sort something out-"

"Ah, fuck you too, Milton. I thought at least_ you_ might be able to see how screwed up all this is- do you know what the fuck has been goin' on in this place? Have you got any fucking idea-!"

"We're going to try and be civil about this, Merle-"

"Yeah?! Well fuck you twice. Civil my ass- he's fucking_ insane,_ and everyone in here knows it. We're all sat here in this bullshit parade actin' like that ain't the truth in it, but each and every one of us know that_ sick fuck_ is off his rocker. You're doing all this fucked up shit for a_ psychopath."_

The Governor shook his head at that, and waved his hand quickly to Greeley, stood at his side.

"Bring me the girl."

Greeley looked at him uncertainly for a second. "Which one do you want, Michonne or-?"

"Merle's girl," The Governor explained quickly to the boy, though he looked at Merle with a demoniacal smile as he said it. Greeley nodded, and swiftly left down the hall.

"Don't you fucking dare," Merle growled at the man, and Phillip smiled as he veered into the corner of the room, inspecting the water channeled next to the industrial sinks.

"I thought you agreed to leave her out of this," Milton said quickly to the Governor, who drawled,

"She's already in it."

"Jesus, you don't know, do ya?" Merle called to the second man, the growl back in his voice as it erupted up through the canals in his chest, "you've got no fucking idea what he's done. You blind fucking idiot."

Milton looked at Merle, not understanding at all, feeling more and more uneasy as the situation progressed.

"...What do you mean?"

Merle just shook his head, eyes closed with his head against the wall.

Jumbled footsteps were heard from the corridor not long after and the thick door clanked quickly open; Greeley came back in, pulling Laurel with him, and Merle felt something deep within him twist. She was being dragged along by her fragile wrists, babbling unintelligibly and bent over in her effort to pull away. The tape was still plastered over her mouth, and she was a crazed mess; her hair was sprung up around her head in a dry fuzz and her light eyes were red with wear, burning around the rims and flared at the ducts; all around her left eye a swollen purple bruise had risen, yellowed at the edges and grey across the four imprints of the knuckles. Pale tear tracks glazed her skin, though she was not crying now, face hard despite its abused state. A streak of dried red across her face showed that her nose had bled, and a little of the tape had given at the bottom, leaking with red, suggesting that maybe her lip was split, too. Her exposed upper arm was decorated with a wheel of bruising where she'd been viciously grabbed or pulled or restrained at some point, and her wounded skin had receded back in an attempt to protect itself. The neck of Laurel's dress had been pulled to the point where the fabric had given out and now lay down past her right shoulder; a small tear employed from just beneath her left breast down to her hip, exposing the cold skin beneath.

But worst of all was her legs.

Her leggings had been torn away, exposing the two white limbs Merle had first seen on that warm morning; but now, instead of the blush of day break, they were coated with something more sinister; blood, red and wet, dampening her inner thighs and leaking down past the sodden hem of the lemon dress. The way her legs bent as she was forced to squabble along showed that she was clearly in pain doing so; Merle felt more wrathful than he remembered ever feeling in all his years of life. For what felt like hours but what could only have been minutes Merle found himself in a rage, an anger so blind he was barely conscious of the words he was shouting, of the blood dribbling down his wrist from the cuts he had caused there by buckling the restraints.

Merle's reaction, the anger in him, had caused Laurel to start crying again, though she tried to hide it- Greeley began to tease her, his fingers clamped tightly around her wrists, and she started to shout the best she could from beneath the duct tape across her mouth like a harpy, the noise in the room of the three shouting parties causing havoc inside Milton's ears. His jaw had dropped in shock- the poor girl had been beaten terribly- not as bad as Merle had, but still there was quite some visible damage- the blood between her legs suggested the damage was not just external. Milton felt sick at what he assumed from this, and found that now, even he was shouting.

"Phillip, this is-! What have you done, I thought we _agreed-!"_

"You're dead," Merle drawled eventually at the men in the room, "all of ya are_ fucking dead,_ you get your fucking hands off her-!"

"Don't think so, old man," Greeley taunted, tugging Laurel's hair so that she was forced closer to him. He ripped the tape from her mouth and she let out a long-repressed roar.

"Get off me!" she roared, her words were pained as though there may be tears somewhere behind them. Merle watched her tug away from him to no avail and spat,

"Lay your hands off her, you little shit! You're the first one I'm gonna have, you fucking piece of low life-!"

"Really?" Greeley smirked, and ran his hands down Laurels side, pulling her under his arm and holding her against his side by a tight grip on her waist She screamed at the boy with a sudden hysterical burst of tears, launching at him despite her damaged state, and he pushed her away from himself and over to the Governor like a violent game of pass the parcel.

"Laurel," he greeted welcomingly, grabbing her shoulders to steady her as she was pulled up before him- quickly the girl spat in his direction, cursing at him with a violent surge of hatred flaring in her eyes; the spittle landed on the breast of his quilted jacket, and he looked down at it with a grim expression for a moment.

"Been teaching her bad habits, have we, Merle?" he said, remembering how Merle had delivered him the same display of disrespect, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Not very lady-like at all…"

He moved his eye back to Laurel, gave her a forced smile and wrang a hand up through the back of her hair; she struggled to no avail, making a clouded sort of screeching noise as Greeley's arms clamped her own down; the Governor struck her sharply across the face with the back of his hand.

"She can have yours, too," he added, and struck her against the other cheek with meteoric force.

"I- I can't be a part of this," Milton claimed hastily, backing out of the room.

"Part of _what?"_ Phillip questioned, not even looking at his adviser.

"Phillip- I am your adviser and your friend, and I'm telling you, this is _not_ the right move- what you've done here, it's barbaric, _evil!_ Please, listen to me- she's just a child," Milton tried.

"Don't look nothing like a child to me," Greeley called, fighting with her as she snapped at his arms, and Milton shook his head before continuing louder,

"This is wrong! Your grudge against Merle and Michonne I can at least _understand,_ but-"

"If you don't like it, then go," Phillip husked, yanking hard at Laurel's hair so that she gave a tiny gasp of pain, trying to push him from her wordlessly. "This-" he pointed over at where Laurel and Merle both resided- "this is the way things work now. This is how we deal with our problems."

"What, with torture and mindless violence? By kidnapping and attacking whole communities... with_ murder?!"_

Milton looked to the other men; to Martinez, Greeley, Shumpert. The elder two were hard-faced, utterly stoic, and Greeley looked as though he were positively enjoying himself, relishing the adrenaline of the experience as Laurel shuddered helplessly in his arms, her eyes only on Merle.

"This isn't..." Milton tried, "...this is _not _who we are."

"Then leave," the Governor growled, pulling Laurel away from Greeley and wrangling with the girl until he got a firm enough grip on her that she elected to momentarily stay still. "If this isn't who you are, Milton, then go."

Milton was unsure whether the man meant for him to leave the room, or leave Woodbury all together.

"...If I thought you meant that-"

"GO!"

Milton looked about the dark storage unit a second with wide eyes, nodded quickly then disappeared from the store house.

Phillip turned to the silent room; the others watched him silently, Laurel and Merle included, as he turned back to the group.

"Well?" The Governor mused, "shall we get started?"

**~oOo~**

"Tonight, then," Rick affirmed, counting through the weapons as the others fussed around sorting different bits and pieces for their rescue plan. "We're in, we grab the three of them, and then we're gone... then we go."

"Why not _now?!_" Daryl said, "we can just go_ now-!"_

"We secure the weapons, run through the plan with everyone, get the kids safe and then we leave."

"We're wastin' time, let's just-"

"You're not coming." Rick told him- Daryl's face turned to venom.

"Don't you fucking even start that shit," Daryl spat, "I'm the one who made the fucking plan, you think i'm just gonna lay out here on my ass with my brother out there-!"

"It's not up for discussion," Rick told him sharply, shoving another gun into his holdall, "I've spoken with Hershel- he says we'd be in more danger taking you. You're still messed up- not just in your body, but your head-"  
"My head's just fucking fine-!"

"You have concision," Hershel piped up, "your balance is off, you won't be able to see straight, your hearing could phase, you could have a bout of nausea- if you go out there, you're not only risking your own life but those of the rest of the group-"

"What do you know about it, old ma?! Ain't you supposed to be a vet?! 'Sides, I don't see you puttin' yourself out here-!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Carol snapped at him, "Hershel has one leg, or has the concussion messed with your memory, too!"

"Stay outta this!" Daryl snapped at Carol, "you're the same, what do you even do around here? Water the daisies?!"

"Carol's coming with us," Carl informed him, and Daryl shook his head. "You ain't goin'!" He told her, "you'll get yourself killed, you dumb broad-!"

The rest of the group watched in silence as Rick began an argument with his son, telling him that he himself was by no means going anywhere, and Daryl screamed at Carol, demanding that she go nowhere as she defended that she was perfectly capable of holding her own.

"I think we've all heard enough," Glenn said from the top of the stairs, as the group continued in their conflict, eventually Rick drew himself from his dispute with Carl and nodded- this wasn't Daryl. This was... this was the Daryl he'd first met out in Atlanta, hot and erratic and ready to bite the head off anyone within reach. Not only that, he was dangerous. Rick nodded at the others, and in an instant they had pounced upon him- the group wrangled with Daryl as they attempted to contain him to a cell.

"Wouldn't it have been easier to knock him out?!" Carl shouted from behind the group- Rick shook his head sadly, and continued to haul his rage-filled friend over to the cell block.

**~oOo~**

The Governor muttered something to Greeley which the others didn't quite hear, and the boy proceeded to tip the two vats of murky water into the industrialized sinks at the back of the room. Phillip thanked him, then grabbed hold of Laurel's white arm and lifted it sharply, spinning it above her head so that she twirled quickly like a jaunty doll in a music box. Laurel glared at him solidly, pulling herself away; she felt his hands on her sides and she yelped as he rammed her quickly against the side of the first sink, his waist against her back.

"Leave me alone-!"

"Tell me, do you like swimming?"

Suddenly, with a forceful thrust, the Governor bent Laurel over the sink and plunged her head into the ice cold water; the cold liquid streamed in through her nose and mouth, drowning down her throat and swallowing her from the inside. Laurel thrashed around violently, screaming inside, and suddenly found herself choking, coughing, spluttering; but breathing. Her hands traveled immediately to her pale eyes as she stumbled backwards, the Governor's hand locked firmly in her drowned hair, and Laurel tried to plaster the icy water away from them. She reeled again, trying her best to pull away but finding she couldn't; the Governor laughed sardonically, holding his hand roughly across the back of her neck with a tenacious grip, and pushed her down again; Laurel put her arms up against the sides of the sink, resisting as the steam burned her face, and with a growl he taunted,

"Are you not going to be a big girl and take your bath?!"

He hauled her forwards again, breaking her resistance, a sickly laughter putrefying the air. She could see the extremity of the heat before she felt it; steam, billowing from the sink which was suddenly directly in front of her wet eyes. She automatically opened her mouth to scream, but it filled with scolding liquid seconds later, a burning agony, made ten times worse by its ice-cold predecessor. She thrashed twice as much, desperately trying to resurface, and for a second her prayer is answered, air in her lungs, and he heard the indistinct roars of Merle's thunderous protests, curse words and death threats and raw, bubbling anger, but then she was submerged in ice again, her body convulsing from the shock of it.

"I'll kill you, you fucking prick!" Merle growled, arms working against the restraints, full of frustration and hatred as he watched her struggling against the crazed man, his body pressed up hard against her own as she gargled and gasped desperately. He twisted his hand tighter in the back of her hair, leaning over her then looking back at Merle with a brutal, sardonic smile.

Boiling, freezing, boiling, freezing; the cycle seemed never-ending, and as Laurel was lifted from the icy water for the fourth time, she managed an indistinguishable splutter of "please!"

He forced her down into the scolding tank again, and after only a few seconds he felt her tormented body give out beneath his hold; she went limp, head floating under his tight hand, no longer struggling; no longer moving at all.

"Laurel?" Merle called out through his rage, sensing her sudden lack of movement. She didn't respond so he called out her name again, more potently this time, then roared at the Governor, "you've killed her, you son of a bitch!"

The Governor's grip on her back and hair laxened, and he lifted her limp body from the sink and slammed her down against the concrete floor. Laurel didn't move. Merle continued in his rage, and Greeley stared down at her body, a little nervously. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Is... is she dead?"

Merle's blind threats continued for another few seconds- he pulled at the restraints around his arms- his first instinct was to break free that he might slaughter the Governor, that he might tare his throat out and stamp on his remains- and he needed to get to her, needed to pick her up and make sure she was okay- suddenly Laurel heaved a rasping breath, choking out water and dripping and shaking, a metallic taste in her mouth from where the blood-dried wounds on her face had reddened the torturous waters. Her bright curls had fallen into wet brown rags around her head, slapping against her vibrant red cheek as she choked out for air on the hard ground, eyes pinched shut and her whole body shaking. She reeled, face-down on the floor, and tried with weak arms to lift herself; It seemed like years before she could breathe again, but just as she regained the precious gift of air, it was stolen from her once more; a hand, the Governor's hand, snapped around her neck and threatened to squeeze the remaining life from her weak form, so tight she could feel the skin of either wall of her throat closing off against the other, and she grappled against it with all her remaining strength, crying blindly.

"What's say we put her out of her misery?" The Governor tried, eyes on Merle as he reached for the gun in his back pocket and put it up against the side of Laurel's head.

"Leave her-!"

"No!" she wretched, shaking her head as much as possible, gurgling cries and still begging for air in her hardly conscious state.

"No?" the Governor repeated comically, raising his brows and toying with the gun. He traced the firearm down the side of her face, the skin red raw from the boiling water she'd encountered, like an artist planning his next masterpiece.

"No... I think she might be right."

The Governor's hand left her neck, and Laurel found herself unable to distinguish whether the liquid on her face was water from the sinks or her own panicked, hopeless tears. She tried to fight, do something brave- scream, hit out, anything- but found that her tired body could not summon the strength to even try. Shumpert lifted Laurel up by her underarms, and Merle could see ringlets of blood around her knees and elbows from where the harsh grey ground had grazed her as she fell. The skin of her forearms had been shredded white, large quantities of it hanging in thin strips from the scuff of her arms like macabre ribbons, and she was drenched all over, the blood from her thighs running down the insides of her legs in clouds of pink and leaving washed dark pools on the concrete, supported only by Shumpert's clench around her weak wrist. Slipping on the floor due to the water still dripping from her upper torso, Laurel fought for a second but found her light-headedness too difficult to fight through.

"Merle-" she whispered weakly, and Shumpert pulled her to the opposite side of the room, forced her to sit down atop the timber and tied her legs there, taping her wrists together so that they were useless. The Governor stopped him and ordered that one of her hands be cuffed to the timber; Shumpert obliged with a pair of handcuffs they had looted from the old folks home gang when they had been passing through Atlanta way in the early days; for a second he remembered the massacre, how most of the elderly had barely even been able to register the attack as their relatives and former orderlies fell to the bullets around them; that had been their first big kill. Not even the places pet dogs had been spared; it had been quick and successful, and had yielded them a huge amount of supplies and weapons; guilt, too, but for the benefits Woodbury had received from the raid, such things had easily been shelved away and forgotten.

As Laurel coughed above the pedestal, crying hopelessly and still struggling to breathe, eyes closed tight as she tried to block out all that was happening, the Governor fiddled with the barrel of the gun in his hand. He took out three of the bullets in the clip, leaving only one in there. As Shumpert stood from beside Laurel, Phillip walked over to her, showing her the gun. He held it to her head a moment and Merle roared at him, before the Governor smirked at him and put the weapon in her free hand, holding it there so that she wouldn't drop it in her shaken state.

"This is yours," he said. "I'm going to be kind and let _you_ decide what happens here, Laurel- I'm not going to interfere anymore. We'll leave you and Merle alone now, together, and you can decide- one gun, one bullet. You have lots of options... you can shoot Merle in the head and slowly die of thirst, you can shoot yourself in the head and let him slowly die of thirst, you can forget the bullet and die together... I'll leave that up to you."

With that he stood, gesturing his men out of the door.

"Wait... that's_ it?"_ Greeley called to the Governor quickly, "but- but you said-!"

"I changed my mind," Phillip replied, gesturing for the boy to leave the room. Greeley looked as though he might protest again, but something in the Governor's eye made him decide against it- he pulled a disgruntled face, glanced quickly at Laurel, then followed out after Shumpert and Martinez. The Governor mumbled something about talking to _'my people'_ and paying a visit to Michonne.

"Nice making your acquaintance," Phillip said to Laurel and Merle as he went to leave the room, not even bothering to turn and look at them, "It's... unfortunate that we're saying our goodbye's in such circumstances. Enjoy your last days with each other... if you decide to carry on that long. I''ll come by in a few weeks and release whoever's still growling, let them eat the body of the other... I'm sure by that point whoever it is will be positively _famished._ I'm quite excited to see who it is, if I'm honest... happy decision-making."

There was a reverberating bang, and a bullet slammed into the aluminium wall beside Phillip's head; he turned half-hardheartedly, to see Laurel with her arm outstretched, the gun pointed at him. He rolled his eyes as he slipped through the warehouse door and smirked,

"Waste of a bullet... enjoy starvation."

Laurel dropped the gun in her lap and looked up at Merle hopelessly.

"You're gonna beg for me to kill ya before I'm finished with you," Merle called to the man plainly as his footsteps started to leave, so cold and calculated that it no longer sounded like a threat; it was fact to him, and nothing else. The Governor turned from his position in the doorway, with that same condescending crystalline smile he always wore.

"I'll look forward to it," he replied sarcastically, brushing a hand across his hair and replacing his wet sleeves neatly as he ventured back down the corridor, back to his smiling city of yellow people in their yellow houses, going about their yellow lives.

**AN:**

**When I said you're going to like this one... I lied. ****I am a terrible person. Feel free to hate me. **

**SO YEAH GOV IF YOU COULD JUST DIE ALREADY, THAT WOULD BE GREAT. ****Despite the chapter title, do not be mislead- this is by no means the end. This one was painful to write- so many dark scenes lately D:**

**BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY!**

**_My recommendations!_ I had quite the spasm of revulsion as I discovered on my fic-hunt that there are no WD communities that specialize around Merle-related stories. Because, seriously guys, there are so many good ones out there. Like _seriously._ And we all love Merle, right? I DEMAND WE START ONE AND SPREAD THE MERLENESS.**

**Here's the top 3 I'd recommend to you guys:**

**-'Never Really Lost'by Zombieslayer5 _(The Dixons end up looking after a little girl, MJ, whose mother abandons her to their care after a one-night stand with Merle (this part is just- omg. You will love it)- only just started, but it's ultra awesome,and the Dixon banter is genius. Cannot wait to see where it goes.)_**

**-'Unexpected' by ex-zombie_ (Meth- I think pretty much every sane Merleaholic on the planet has read it anyway, but if you haven't, HAVE YOU BEEN LIVING IN A CAVE?! SORT YOUR LIFE OUT! Merle's characterization in it is brilliant and it's just... ASDFGHJKL)_**

**-'Coming Undone' by Cheap Trixie _(AU, about Merle's daughter, Liberty- once again, it's really popular so you might already have seen it, but it's great. Liberty is a joy to read and the story unfolds wonderfully)_**

**So yeah... I can't really do them justice here, but go, enjoy them! And pl****ease remember to review if you do- you know when you go to the zoo/safari park and you buy those little paper bags full of pellets to feed the animals? That's what reviews are to most writers. Definitely to me, at least XD If you feed us pellets, we squee inside- y'all know how much of a squeer _I_ am. Make an author happy today!**

**Until next time, dearies, ship Lerle and hunt for mattress drugs! R&R! ;D**


	44. Chapter 44: Break

**AN: ****I HAVE A WARNING FOR YOU ALL, A LESSON YOU MUST ALL PROMISE ME YOU WILL TAKE HEED TO: ****ALWAYS BACK UP YOUR FILES.**

**Seriously. I had a major scare last night- I went to write some more of the story last night, and my phone (that's where I write mostly) said there had been a fatal error with my memory card and that it was going to wipe everything clean. My heart stopped, and by some miracle, I managed to find a backup file of the imprisoned document on my computer. there are 40,000 WORDS on that document, people. 40,000 LERLE-FILLED WORDS THAT WERE NEARLY LOST. THAT'S LIKE... I dunno... if there's an average of 3000 words per chapter, how much is that? 12 chapters? ****So, let us all say a big thank you to the gods of computer science for saving those 40,000 Lerle words. *phew***

**Chapter Forty-Four:**

**Break**

The pair spent a long time trying to break free of their individual bonds, but it became clear that there was no escape for either of them. With sad, uncertain eyes, Laurel stopped struggling and looked up at Merle.

"The group'll come," Merle tried to reassure her as he struggled with the bonds, which was proving even more difficult due to his lack of a hand, though he knew it was a lie and didn't believe it himself. With Daryl hysterical with injury, those in the group who needed protecting and such a short amount of equipped people to get involved, Merle knew that no-one would come to save them- there would be no daring escape like there had been for Daryl, no extreme feats. Woodbury knew their tactics now, knew their weaknesses and their weapons, knew how they would get in and back out again, who they were- coming here would be suicide. The town had smelt the blood of the prison and had now gained a taste for it, one that would not be forgotten. No help would come- at least not until it was too late.

Laurel looked at him, the little hope in her eyes tainted with disbelief, despite her attempts to believe that any savior was coming.

"They'll fix you up and- I'll kill them, Cher. I'm gonna kill each and every one of them for what they've done to ya, especially that little _fuck-"_

"He didn't do anything," Laurel said quietly; Merle gave her a worn, confused look. She gave a quick, shuddering sigh and lifted up the hem of her blood-darkened yellow dress with her free hand; at the top of each of her thighs was bright red, open slit of flesh, slashed horizontally across each leg. Though the wounds were swollen and weeping, they had almost stopped bleeding now; the blood down her legs was drying out, most abandoned to the floor after the submergence she had suffered earlier. Merle stared at the two thick gashes on her lily thighs in confusion.

"…Are you saying that little shit bag didn't...?"

"-No," Laurel told him quickly. She remembered what she had said to Greeley earlier as he had walked her back from the Governor's apartment, and decided with a gulp that it was time to follow her own doctrine.

_Say what you mean, stop pussy-footing around it- If you mean rape, say rape._

"He didn't rape me," she said blankly. "Just cut my legs up pretty bad. I thought he was going to… but no. When he'd done it, the cutting, I managed to punch him a couple of times and then he got mad- I tried to fight, but- that's why I look like this." She gestured to the bruising on her eye, the blood around her nose.

"Jesus, sweetheart, I thought he was... could hear you screaming." Merle found he could breathe again- he thought he may never have felt so much relief in all his life.

"It... hurt," Laurel explained, "plus I was panicking, I thought he was going to do it. Then I just couldn't stop crying when they left, I'm not sure if it was pain or relief or fear or... oh, I don't know." Laurel swallowed hard, lowering the edge of the dress carefully, the damp fabric resting over her bruised legs. "I guess that was the point of cutting me there- got me to scream and the blood- makes it look like he did. It was just for you, I think," she went on quietly, "just... messing with you. Make you think that they had- get you mad, riled up."

"Well, it fucking worked," Merle breathed harshly, fingers curled out of habit. "And you promise they didn't-?"

"I promise," Laurel assured him. She swallowed hard, feeling sick suddenly. "He- Greeley- he said after that he'd be back later, that the Governor had said that he could..." Laurel really struggled with her next line. "That I was his... _reward _for all his hard work lately. I... guess that's why he didn't take it any further. Looks like the Governor changed his mind." Laurel thought again of Greeley's hands up her thighs, the steel of the knife in her skin, and of the water in her lugs and the Governors hand around her neck- she shivered.

Merle shook his head- _Jesus, this was a mess._

"Are _you_ alright?" Laurel asked him carefully, eyeing the bandage on his shoulder, blood still dribbling onto his shirt.

"Yeah," he drawled breathily. "Gettin' shot ain't as bad as I thought it'd be." _Lying bastard,_ he thought to himself- felt like someone had blown a crater in his shoulder and shoved a lit catherine wheel in the wound. "The Doc they've got up there is pretty good... same one who patched up my hand." He looked down at the stump and added, "...well, lack of it."

Laurel smiled weakly at that.

"...What are we gonna do, Merle?"

He shook his head, struggling to look at her. Hell, he didn't know. What the hell was it that had always got this kid looking to him for answers, looking to him for protection and a shoulder to cry on? He had a whole lot of nothing when it came any where close to answers, he'd done a fat lot of good so far in the protecting department, and if she try laying her head on his shoulder at the moment he'd probably pass out from the pressure of it.

"I don't know, darlin'," he tried quietley, trying not to look at her. "I just don't know."

**~oOo~**

Merle and Laurel sat opposite each other, neither saying a word. Merle found he didn't want to take his eyes off her, not even for a second- he watched her as she breathed heavily through her lips, eyes shut and her left swollen.

"Look at me," he said, and her eyes fluttered open. Slowly she raised her face to his level, and he stared into her grey eyes.

"What?" she asked quietly, giving him the smallest of smiles.

"Nothing," he replied. "Just wanna see those eyes, is all."

She smiled again, and looked up to the ceiling.

"It was me," Laurel croaked eventually in the silence.

"What's that, darlin'?" Merle asked her, watching her pale lips as she spoke.

"...Remember I told you about being back at the store, with Veau and Darren and Brent? That group of nomads, the guys who killed them all- they got in because someone left the shutter at the back of the shop up. It was me."

Merle watched her, saw the sadness in her face and the tears that came up into her eyes.

"It was stupid," she breathed with a scalding tone, more to herself than to him as tears pricked her bruised eyes again, "I just forgot to do it- I forgot to pull a stupid piece of metal down and the only people in the world I had left died because of it. Because of _me-"_

"Don't think like that, darlin'," Merle tried, "It ain't your fault... things like that... they happen. Now those guys, they sound a bad bunch, I reckon they would of found their way in anyway-"

"No, Merle," she breathed with tears on her face now, "things like that _don't _happen-they shouldn't... just going into a place, killing people like it was nothing. Good people, my _friends._ They didn't deserve to die like that... it... it wasn't fair."

_Life ain't fair,_ Merle thought, but didn't say it- she was distraught over this, he could tell. He wondered how long she'd been bottling this up for, all this regret and hate and guilt.

"None of this would have happened," she breathed, "if I'd just pulled that damn shutter down..."

Laurel thought of how she'd never have met Merle had it not been for that night. She weighed up the positives against the negatives and gave him a long, slow look. "I'm so scared."

"I know, darlin," he began- hell, he had to admit to himself that he was, too. He didn't want to die, not like _this_- just dying of thirst. _Thirst?_ That was no way for a Dixon to go. He should go kicking the shit out of something, should go with a beer in his hand, a woman around his waist, a laugh and his middle finger up at the world. That was how he should go- not locked in this damn room, not with that poor little thing opposite, having to watch her fall apart at the seams; because that was the real reason, he knew. That's why the Governor had changed his mind about handing her over to his men; he wanted Merle to see it all. Wanted him to see the light die in her eyes, wanted to make him watch her fade away and wanted him to know that it was all his fault, all of this- she was here because of him, and everything that would happen, all the emotions and pains she would experience, that was all on him.

"Why did you tell me that?" Merle asked her, "about it being you who left the shutter up?"

Laurel looked uncomfortable. "...Well that's what you're supposed to do, isn't it? When you think you're going to..." her sentence trailed off with a gulp. "You're supposed to confess."

"I ain't no priest, sweetheart," Merle smiled with a laugh, "it'll do you no good confessing to me."

"No, but... not, like, religiously. Just... I think we should all tell someone. There's things on everyone's chests. I wouldn't like to go without getting mine off."

He smiled at her- hell, _things on her chest._ She was an angel- worst she'd ever done wrong was leave a door open. He thought of all the things he'd done in his time, the people he'd screwed over intentionally, trampled on- hell, even _killed-_ and shook his head.

"We wouldn't even have enough to go through all mine," he told her.

...But there was one thing, one thing that was always there, following him around like a ghost he couldn't exercise. Always trailing behind him, washing over him when he least expected it- and hell if it wasn't stood before him right now. He looked at her, the light of her face, and decided maybe he should tell her- hell, there wasn't gonna be anyone else to tell, now, was there? And if this was it- if they were both going to die- maybe he_ should_ tell someone. Maybe it would make his shoulders a little lighter.

"Back when I was here," Merle told her carefully, eyes closed so that he wouldn't have to see how she'd react, "when I was working for the Governor, and Michonne was still here- he sent me and a few other guys out to kill her. I shot her, in the leg-" twice now, he thought idly- "but she got away. This one kid, he wouldn't let it go. Said we had to go after her, make sure she topped it. I wasn't about to risk it, so..." Merle swallowed hard. "I shot him. Back of his head. Just like that."

Laurel didn't say anything; he hated her for that, hated how she didn't tell him how awful he was, how evil a thing it was; he'd rather have the words than the silence. Because the silence, that told him everything she was thinking; _she didn't believe it._ She was shocked, and he hated that- _hated_ that she couldn't see it, that she _wouldn't _see how bad a guy he was, how bad a guy he'd always been.

"What was his name?" she asked dryly, and he opened his eyes at last, looking over at her.

"Neil."

Being the man who murdered Neil was much easier than being the man who murdered Gargulio.

And Laurel said nothing else of it. She asked no more questions, didn't pry or ask him why, didn't tell him the truths she must be thinking. She just sat there in the quiet, and let him be.

There was one other thing laying thick on his mind. There were two things he regretted more than anything in this life; Gargulio, and Daryl. All the things that had happened when he was a kid, the shit they'd been through- but hell if he was telling this girl any of that. Condemned or not, that was his business and no-one elses- what he did or didn't do back when he was younger was his to ponder.

Merle's thoughts were interrupted as the door to the warehouses began to open; his stomach clenched, for a moment thinking it might be Daryl and the others come to rescue them; but the the door swung open, and in stepped Greeley.

"Oh, light of my life and dawn of my day," Merle growled sarcastically as the boy stepped in the room, "what the fuck are you doing here?"

Greeley shook a bottle of water which he held in his hand.

"I brought refreshments," he snarked, popping the cap of the bottle and heading to Merle.

"Come on, drink up. Haven't got all day."

"I'll pass," Merle drawled, "give it to Laurel instead."

"Why? She thirsty? ...You'd know, I suppose. _Ugh. _Besides, it's not for her," Greeley said, pressing the bottle against Merle's face pedantically, "Gov says it's just for you. I think he's in favor of her popping her clogs first." With a glare Merle took a sip of the water- Greeley held the bottle to his face, and as he pulled away, Merle spat the liquid all over him. Greeley remained composed for a half second before standing, putting the lid back on the water and kicking Merle roughly in the side.

"Fuck you, then."

Merle growled something as Greeley crossed the room, heading in Laurel's direction.

"Aww, look at you," Greeley said, approaching Laurel as she glared at him, "look at that poor little face-"

"Get your hands off me," Laurel snapped, pulling his hand from her face with her free arm as he pressed his forefingers to the bruising he had caused around her eye. "And then fuck off."

"How's the legs holding up, dolly?" Greeley smirked, sitting beside her on the wooden pillars and swinging an arm about her shoulder- Laurel tried to push him off, shuffling as far along the bench as her tied arm would allow, but Greeley simply moved closer and took hold of her wrist in her hand, tightly so that she couldn't break loose. She remembered Merle's advice back when he'd taught her how to defend herself against Walkers, and employed the same tactic against Greeley; she twisted her arm into the break in his grasp and pulled her wrist quickly free. He stared at her freed wrist a moment, a little stunned, and left her arm alone.

"We had lots of fun today, didn't we, Laur?" he teased, placing his hand on Laurel's knee, "Yeah... told him over there all about it yet? How about we fill him in-?"

"He knows," Laurel drawled, shrugging as far as possible from the boy.

"What, you've ruined our joke? Fucks sake, Laurel, you little _spoilsport._ Couldn't have just let him think we'd had some fun in there, what was the point in cutting up your legs if you're gonna go and ruin the punchline?" Greeley's eyes went to the gun on the floor and he picked it up, running his finger over the barrel. "Can't believe you wasted your only bullet, either-"

"Well if I'd known_ you_ were coming back I'd have saved it."

"Aw, that's cute. That was a shit shot you threw, if it had been me with the gun I'd have-"

"Do you even know how to _use_ one of those things?"

"Knew enough to shoot his lousy ass, didn't I?" Greeley smarked, shoving a hand in Merle's direction. "May not have been a head shot, but still- shoulder's not too bad seeing as how dark it was." He put his arm back around her then and leaned up close to her ear, a wicked glint in his eye as he glared at Merle- Laurel flinched as he put his lips up against her ear .

"I could get you another, bullet, you know," he teased, his hand coming around to the side of her neck, "two if you'd_ really_ be willing to pay for it-"

"One more word to her, kid," Merle growled, "one more_ fucking word-!"_

"And you'll do what?!" Greeley laughed. "Jesus, you pair are fucked up. I mean, I get that the pickings are thinning out these days, but seriously... does she even know you want to slay her out, Gramps?" Greeley gave a quaint laugh before standing. "Gotta admit I'm a little peeved about the Gov changing his plans for you," he said to Laurel, pulling at one of the loose waves of her hair, "could have had some_ real_ fun... running a train on you would have been a right laugh." He smirked a little and choked, "I bet you don't even know what that means. Looks like you'll never find out, either... shame. Guess we'll just have to save that for your friends back at the prison, huh? Yeah..."

Laurel kept her expression stoic, though Beth's sweet face flashed alarm bells in her mind. She could feel Greeley's eyes on her, waiting for a reaction, and when she gave none he shook his head at her as though she'd ruined his game and walked back to the warehouse door, waving his hand at the pair as he went.

"See you in hell," he grinned, slipping out of sight with a spring in his step.

"Little prick," Merle muttered, watching as Laurel fidgeted with the hem of her dress. The two sat in silence as the sound of the boy's footsteps deteriorated up the alley way.

Neither of them spoke for a long time, both diminishing into tired looks of nonchalance as they stared hopelessly at one another. As Laurel's eyes began to roll and she laid down her head on the bench with hopes of possibly attaining some sleep, she whispered a goodnight to Merle.

"Sweet dreams, darlin'," he replied sadly, watching as her eyes fluttered shut.

**~oOo~**

Merle could not sleep, of course. He watched her as the room turned black, the splinter of light coming in through the tiny skylight cut into the ceiling fading away- she lay there like a angel, her head turned away from him and the subtle moonlight catching on the gold spun at the roots of her hair. He listened to her breathing, thick and heavy in the silence of the room, and closed his eyes.

All he could think of was Daryl. She had been right about talking about the crap in his life helping- whilst Gargulio was still heavy on his conscience, he felt he could put it aside, at least for a little while. But the other thing- _Daryl_- that he could not shove aside. He sat there in the dark, arms cuffed to those beams and the agony all over his body, chewing on his split lower lip as he thought of all the wrong he'd done by his little brother, who he should have been there for, should have helped and raised and kept safe from all the shit life had to throw. Yet he hadn't, had he? He'd fucked off to Juvy, then to the military, then to prison once he was court-martialed. Then what did he do, once his little brother wasn't so little anymore? Dropped by once every couple of weeks to borrow money he knew he couldn't afford to lend him with that poxy garage job he had, whilst he made his money selling rocks and grass to the low-lives of North Georgia. _Great big brother you were, Dixon. Real solid in the kid's life._

And worst of all, of course, was that he'd not just left him- he'd left him with their _father._ Their drunken, lousy, useless, sack-of-shit old man. He beat the shit out of Merle when he was a kid, even before their Ma died, which he blamed him for anyway- _Your Ma wouldn't have been drinking in the first place if it wasn't for you, causin' all this damn trouble around the neighborhood, gettin' yourself on the road to Juvy Hall- you're gonna rot in hell, boy!_

Merle remembered it- being fifteen years of age, his Dad hollering abuse at him from the burnt-out porch, their old house burnt to cinders. Merle would have just left then, just said fuck it and never come back, but there was Daryl, nipping at his heels and crying. Merle picked him up, swinging him over his shoulders, and told him it wasn't manly to cry.

"But I ain't a man, Merle," Daryl sobbed.

"I won't hear no talk like that," Merle scolded him, blotting out the sound of his father's drunken screams, "you _are_ a man. You're just a little one."

"I want Mom."

Merle's chest tightened. He'd managed to bottle it up so far, and hell if he was gonna have a breakdown here, _now,_ in front of the whole damn neighborhood.

"Mom's gone," Merle said, his voice thick.

"Where?"

Merle struggled with what to say. "...To heaven."

"Is that where Jesus lives?"

"Yeah. Jesus has took her."

"If we remember to say our prayers tonight can we ask if he can give her back?" Daryl tried, the rush of air from sitting atop his brothers shoulders drying his tears off.

"That's... that's not how it works, Darlena."

"Then how does it work?"

"We- we just gotta wait a while. Just gotta wait till Jesus says it's our time to go up there, and Ma'll be waiting. Alright?"

"But I want to see her now."

"I know you do. But you can't."

"...Where are we going to live now?" Daryl asked his big brother as they turned the corner. "Our house is gone."

Merle saw one of the neighbors, Sally's Mom, come out of the front of her house. A little gaggle of them appeared and he gave them all hard stares. None of them approached- they were all scared of him. Good, Merle thought. They knew he was on parole, set for Juvy in a couple of weeks. He wore the tag around his ankle like it was a fucking Rolex and made sure they all got a good look of it as he passed; he didn't want their fucking sympathy, and he sure as hell didn't need it. None of 'em down this end had given two shits about his Ma when she'd been alive, and he'd swim through a river of shit before he'd listen to this lot of bullcrappers sing her praises high and low.

"That's where we're goin' now," Merle told his little brother as they passed the clutter of nosey neighbors, "we're gonna move into a trailer park."

"Like the one uncle Jesse lives in?"

"The same one. I've got some money from... doing things. Don't you worry, Dar. I'm gonna be gone for a little while, but when I'm back you and Dad will be all settled in- you're gonna love the trailer. Alright?"

"Alright."

"And hey, maybe... before I go, I'll get you a dog. Uncle Jesse's friend's hound has just had herself a litter- how would you like that? You'd have to look after it, mind, walk it and feed it and clean up it's crap-"

Daryl grinned, "Can I name it myself?"

"'Course you can."

"...Do I really have to clean up it's crap?"

"Hey! Watch that big mouth of yours- don't say_ 'crap'_."

"But you say it-!"

"I'm bigger than you, I can say what I want. Now do you want a damn dog or not?"

Daryl grinned with a nod, and the two had set out to the trailer park.

Will Dixon had gotten rid of the dog before Merle even had the chance to go off to Juvy- _too much mess, too much hassle, get it out or i'll take it down to the river and throw it off the bridge._ So Merle had sold the thing to a couple of inner-city ditzes, convinced them it was pedigree, and won back double the price. He'd meant to buy Daryl a bike with the money, added with a little more he'd saved up on his rounds, but he knew their old man would probably just sell it to pay for his tabs at Jakes' bar, so he'd taken Daryl out to Barksdale ad brought him some sweets from the corner store then take him into Collins' Diner for a milkshake. The two had sat there, hurling spitballs through their straws at each other from across the table, and Daryl ended up eating that much candy that he spewed his guts out on the long walk home. That had been the day before Merle was due to serve his time, and he'd been inside for six months after that.

When Merle finally came, it had been to a drunken father, who had told him he shouldn't have come back and ended up clotting him one across the nose- and Merle had punched him straight back. _If you pull on a dogs ears long enough, they're gonna snap at ya,_ that's what Merle remembered thinking- and his pops had got it in full force, over and over and over again until the neighbors had to come around and drag him off, and old Will Dixon had never laid a hand on his eldest boy ever again. Merle guessed that that was when the old man had started beating on Daryl- bastard. The kid had never said anything, either- or maybe he just wasn't listening. Daryl was quieter when Merle returned from Juvy, less excitable, but he'd figured that had just been the grieving; Merle had doe his fair share of that himself when he'd been in the halls, but he'd vented it out through exercise in the yard, banter with his new so-called 'friends' and brawls with anyone who he didn't like the look of, regardless of whether or not he stood a chance against them. Coming back to the trailer park had been a shock to the system, but he'd soon settled right in to trailer life and had found a group of guys who suited his new-found tastes just fine.

The trailer park was more like a family than the street they'd lived on before- these people were more like he was, acted like a family; one night, he remembered, they'd been sat outside drinking in the middle of the night and Wyatt Bedford, a troublemaker from the next town across, had made a grab for Sally Johnson that she didn't want him to and about ten guys from the park had hauled him out into the woods and beat the crap out of him. Yeah, he'd liked the park-he just wished he'd opened his eyes and seen what was happening to his little brother. Because look at them now- Daryl cared about him, for sure, and he'd follow what he told him to do if need be, but he didn't respect him, not in the way brothers should; he was a little scared of him, that was for sure, but respect? That was lacking lately. Merle wished he could go back, do things differently so that he'd took Daryl away, kept him away from that man and started him a proper life- got him into school, got himself a half-decent job instead of getting involved with the cycle gangs. Maybe then things would have been different... he could have been a proper brother, and Daryl wouldn't give him that look sometimes like there was a wall between the two of them, like there was some long-repressed anger that Daryl couldn't quite get over or understand- he'd give anything to have Daryl here, to just be talking with him, teasing him over something stupid like the way he acted around that woman or the way his hair was starting to grow down into his eyes. The thing that spooked him most of all wasn't that he might die, it was that Daryl might not care.

Merle found himself thrown from his thoughts as he heard metal screech in the lock; he turned sharply to the door, and hissed,

"You know what, you little_ fuck,_ why don't you bring your ass back in the morning, I'm trying to get some fucking _sleep-!"_

"You could sleep," said the opposing voice- but it was not that of Greeley. "...Or I could get you out of here."

Merle squinted in the darkness to see Milton Mamet step through into the warehouse, a glint of silver glittering in his hand.

Merle grinned.

**AN: **

**OHHHH YEAHHHH ****GO MILTON WORK IT BABY WORK IT**

**Everyone, look up there! _Is it a bird?! Is it a plane?!_ No, it's the huge sigh of relief throughout the entire Imprisoned audience as we discover Laurel wasn't raped. *phew* ...thank God for that. I AM SO SORRY FOR DECEIVING YOU ALL- I originally wrote it differently so that we actually saw what went on in the room at the end of chapter 42 as chapter 43, but I removed the entire chapter so that you'd all be in the same mindset as Merle and would all perceive the situation as he would. The Governor screws with Merle's head, I in turn screw with yours. I don't want it to feel like a cheap cop-out, either, but what actually happened ties in better with the direction the story is written in; so yes. There is method to the madness. ****I will upload that deleted chapter to the AU document tomorrow for the more sadistic amongst you- there's Greeley dialogue and stuff that ties into the next chapter so I suggest you check it out :)**

**SO YEAH FEEL FREE TO DROP DEAD NOW GREELEY... I know you all want me to kill him, dearies, I know *pats you all on head like sleeping kittens* I hate his guts too. ****Lots of Dixon childhood in this chapter... I LOVE WRITING DIXON CHILDHOOD. I'm sorry there was so much and not that much actual 'Imprisoned' story line this chapter. Hope you enjoyed, guys, regardless! And u********gh, and I was repulsed to find out what_ 'running a train'_ on someone means... my Greeley-dialogue research often leads me deep into the depths of Urban Dictionary *shudders* My mind is far too pure and innocent for such endeavors!**

**R&R, guys!**

**-Wiza x**


	45. Chapter 45: Night

_**AN: Aaaand we're back to the main story!**_

_**I must say, the Greeley blood-thirst over the past few chapters has been quite impressive- you are a very creative bunch, dear readers, your Greeley-hate in the reviews is admirable. My personal favorites were defiantly that he 'needs a stick up his ass. With barbed wire' (courtesy of ForgottenDreamsSS ) and BobbysIdjit's hopes that he ends up being 'fucked up the ass with Merle's big ass knife/arm/thingy!' ...**__**Anal penetration seems to be our preferred method of Greeley receiving his commupence ;D**_

_**Last time we ended with the arrival of good ol' Milton... but what dafq's gonna go down now? Let's find out, bitches.**_

**Chapter Forty-Five:**

**Night**

_Merle found himself thrown from his thoughts as he heard metal screech in the lock; he turned sharply to the door, and hissed,_

_"You know what, you little fuck, why don't you bring your ass back in the morning, I'm trying to get some fucking sleep-!"_

_"You could sleep," said the opposing voice- but it was not that of Greeley. "...Or I could get you out of here."_

_Merle squinted in the darkness to see Milton Mamet step through into the warehouse, a glint of silver glittering in his hand._

_Merle grinned._

"Milton fucking Mamet," he droned as Milton flung himself across the room, a knife bared in one hand, the set of keys for the warehouse in the other, and he began to work away at the bonds around Merle's wrists.

"We have to move- quickly! The Governor's asleep but a few of the others are still milling around, they'll catch on soon enough-"

"Why would you help us?" Merle hissed as Milton moved across the room; he shook Laurel lightly by the shoulder and she awoke in a frenzy, pushing him away and almost screaming out, clearly believing herself to be under some other assault- Milton shushed her carefully, reaching for her hand as he began to untie the cuff about her wrist. He fully opened Laurel's handcuffs and she glared at him in the darkness.

"I've seen what he's doing with her," Milton called quietly to Merle, referring to Michonne, "what he's done, and you need to leave. _Now._"

"What do you mean, _'what he's doing to her?'_," Laurel asked in panic, "where is she, is she alright-?!"

"We haven't got long- take these," Milton instructed, handing Merle the keys to a vehicle and helping him to his feet; Merle nodded at Milton in thanks, pulling Laurel to him as she scurried across the room. He pulled her in under his arm, and let Milton move for the door.

"Come on," Merle instructed the timid man, and the group sneaked through the corridor.

"I've got a car waiting for you at the back of the town, just through here- Alice has sent the border guards off on a wild goose chase so we haven't got long-"

"You're comin' with us!" Merle told him.

"Yeah," Laurel affirmed, "if the Governor finds out you helped us-"

"No, I- I can't. I have to stay here. This is where I belong, with these people and-"

"Don't bullshit, man!" Merle roared at him, following Milton through the final door door.

"Shh- this way," Milton hissed, straightening his glasses and moving quickly with them out of the warehouse corridor. "I'll follow after you- Andrea showed me the way to the prison. There's some things I need to get- my research, my records-"

"This ain't no time to be worryin' about your diary! Governor'll kill you if- _when-_ he finds out, you know that, right?!"

"I... I have to stay- at least for now. These people need to be warned, I'll tell Andrea and that group who came from the prison- Alice is on your side, when she found out about Laurel being here-"

"Ah, you do what you like," Merle growled, moving up to the car Milton had mentioned, opening it up with the keys, "it's your ass on the line."

"Is that them?!" a quiet voice called- the entire assembly jumped, thinking they had been caught- but it was Doctor Stevens, sat atop the wall with a rifle to 'cover' the soldiers she had dismissed. Milton nodded up at the woman, and she looked directly at Laurel.

"I'm sorry," she told her, "I didn't know-"

Laurel gave the woman a thankful yet confused look as Merle pulled her around to the passengers side of the car, opening up the door and shoving her roughly inside in haste.

"One more thing," Milton said as Laurel and Merle slipped quietly into the car, "I... I need you to punch me. Preferably in the face."

Merle gave him a confused look.

"You overpowered me, took the keys and left," Milton said sternly, singing his meticulously planned back story, "your restraints weren't tight enough- I went in to re-enforce them with handcuffs and you knocked me out." Milton pulled two pairs of cuffs from his pocket and shook them lightly.

Merle nodded at him.

"You may survive us yet."

With an encouraging nod from Milton, Merle struck the man quickly across the face with his fist, almost sending Milton toppling.

"That enough?" Merle said, opening up the car door quickly.

"That's..." Milton tried, utterly disorientated, "that's good, yes, I think... very good."

Merle nodded, getting in the driver's side and sticking the key into the ignition.

"Thank you," Laurel called to Milton from the passenger's seat, leaning to the window.

"Go," Milton told them with a nod. "Quickly."

"Stay safe," Merle drawled, revving the engine as Milton pulled open the metal grate- the car drove quickly through and Milton left it open, turning back to his town and counting to ten, giving Merle and the girl a head start before Woodbury ran into a mad panic. He nodded up to Alice, stood atop the wall, who fired two bullets up into the sky- clutching the soon-to-be bruising on his face, Milton ran over to where the two guards she had sent off were returning, running now because of the gunfire.

"Quickly!" he yelled, "Someone get the Governor!"

**~oOo~**

Glenn waited in the car for the others, engine already roaring; the entire group- he, Maggie, Rick, Carol and Axel- were all suited head-to-toe in the SWAT suits, each of them topped up with dozens of bullets and an arsenal of weapons. It was risky, what they were attempting- insane, they all knew that- but it had to be done. They couldn't leave them out there, it just wasn't human. Glenn dreaded that they might be dead already- regardless of their differences, he didn't want Merle dead, and he certainly didn't want his blood on his hands. Laurel and Michonne- they couldn't leave them. They just couldn't.

"One last run through- in and out," Rick affirmed as he climbed in the passengers side, "we abandon the car a while out, the four of us head to the back entrance near the warehouses where Glenn and Maggie were held- Axel, you stay by the main gate, set off a couple of rounds and get back in the car, drive out ad around the outskirts, headlights out. That'll distract the wall guards and hopefully they'll go to help over in north- if not..." he paused a second, looking down at the ground. "If not, we've got silencers. We take them out, sneak in through the back wall, find the three of them and get the hell out of there back the way we came- by which time, Axel's waiting for us, we jump i and we drive all the way home before they even realize we've been. If we ca kill the Governor while we're at it that'll be a bonus. If not... we defend the prison until we're ready to travel then we go."

The group nodded. "We ready?" Carol asked as she shuffled in the back of the truck with Axel and Maggie- she was utterly determined, ready to go. This needed to be done, and to hell if she wasn't going to be in on it, in spite of Daryl's insistence that she stay- she was doing it for_ him,_ after all.

"Ready as we'll ever be," Axel said nervously, clutching his gun as Carl opened up the outer gate and the five of them drove out of the prison and onto the open road.

**~oOo~**

"What do you mean, he _escaped?!"_ Phillip roared, fueled with rage at not only what had occurred but at having been interrupted in his sleep.

"Just what I said," Milton tried, following after the Governor as he stamped through to the opposite side of the warehouses, "I went in there to tighten up his restraints, like you said we needed to- took in handcuffs- I bent down to put them on him and he'd managed to get the arm with no hand free from the ties, hit me in the face with that metal contraption thing on his arm- when I woke up, both him and the girl were just... gone. Alice was out there, she tried to shoot their tires but-"

"And the car, how in the hell did they get the car going?!"

"I had a chain of keys in my pocket, they must have searched me before they-"

"God _damn it,_ Milton!"

"I know, I- I'm sorry- I should have covered it with you before I went in there, got Martinez for backup, but I just thought-"

"No, that's the problem- you didn't _think!_ You're a smart man, Milton, how in the _hell-?!"_

The Governor stopped then, staring hard at Milton's face as though he had just realized something.

"...What is it?" Milton questioned, and the Governor brought his fingers up to Milton's cheek.

"The butt of his prosthetic, you say?" Phillip questioned, and Milton nodded uneasily. "Funny that," the Governor breathed, "because this bruising on your eye is starting to look a hell of a lot like four knuckle imprints."

Milton swallowed hard. "Yes, well... it- it could have been his hand, I don't really remember all that well- I was... disorientated."

"And the bonds around his wrists- they just cut themselves? Your story isn't exactly water tight, is it, my friend?"

Milton was beginning to panic inside. "Whatever you're insinuating, Phillip... it's absurd. I went in to replace the ties around Merle's wrists with handcuffs and he knocked me unconscious whilst I was doing it. In hindsight I should have cuffed him first and cut the ties afterwards, I know, but-"

"Why Why would you decide to do it in the middle of the night?"

"I couldn't sleep," Milton defended, "I was... paranoid. Having him cuffed would have set my mind at ease-"

"And now your stupidity has allowed him his escape," the Governor drilled. He stared hard at Milton for a moment longer, then placed a thick hand on his shoulder and gave a cool laugh. "But no matter," he smiled, "I'll see them both dead soon enough... we're going back to the prison."

**~oOo~**

Merle drove quickly despite the darkness, too worried about Walkers to risk the headlights, one of which was broken anyway. The soft trickle of moonlight made seeing near impossible, but he continued to drive all the same.

"Slow down," Laurel said in a stoic voice, utterly in shock- relief had not had the chance to hit either of them yet.

"Not until we're a good distance," Merle replied, eyeing the road, "if they come out lookin'-"

"In the _dark?"_ Laurel mused, "not gonna happen. It would be more dangerous for them, it would be crazy to-"

"Yeah, well he is crazy."

She grabbed hold of his hand on the wheel and he began to slow up eventually, pulling the car over to the side of one of the longer roads and parking up there, cutting out the ignition and letting out a long sigh, staring out at the road. The two sat in silence for a long time then, until eventually Merle began to laugh, a thick, hecking sound blistering the still air.

"We're alive," he said, and gave her hand a quick squeeze, still rested on the wheel.

Laurel smiled, drawing both of their hands down into the space between them, stroking over fingers over the blistered skin around Merle's wrist where he'd cut them raw trying to break away from the restraints put upon him in Woodbury. She gave a breathy little sigh and leant her head against his arm.

"I can't believe it," she breathed with a weak smile.

"Me neither, darlin'," Merle agreed- _hell, it was a miracle if he'd ever known one._ "We gotta be the luckiest people on this planet."

"That wasn't luck," Laurel breathed cautiously, "...that was Milton."

Merle nodded his head. To think he's owe his life- _Laurel's too-_ to Milton Mamet, of all the people to have walked this earth. _Well, stranger things have happened at sea, 'spose._

"I'm just glad we are."

"Me too," Laurel agreed with a short breath, closing her eyes against his arm. He tucked the loose threads of her still-damp hair behind her ear and she quickly tried to replace them- Merle noticed this, eyeing her carefully, and lifted the hair once again. Laurel avoided looking at him as he noticed the dark purple bruising beneath her ear- too high for it to be from the Governor's strangling onslaught, of which many visible bruises had already come up upon her delicate skin, and the high bruising was speckled, red in some places and blotchy. _Kind of like a... _

"That a fuckin' _hicky?!_" Merle said, exasperated, and Laurel leaned away from him a little, embarrassed. He rubbed his thumb over the purple contusion and she flinched away a little. "That fucking prick gave you a damn _love bite?!_"

Laurel nodded uncomfortably, keeping her eyes on the carpeted floor of the car so that she wouldn't have to envision her attacker and could avoid the embarrassment of catching Merle's eye; he sensed the distant revulsion in her voice and felt the anger grow within him.

"...What else has he done to ya?"

Laurel swallowed hard. "I... I don't wanna talk about it," she tried, closing her eyes again. "Nothing bad, though... I promise. Nothing like... that."

Merle glanced over her, saw the bruising on her skin and the dry trails of blood still on her legs. Didn't look like_ 'nothing'_ to him. He sighed, putting his arm around her carefully and hiding the scar beneath her hair again.

"I'll kill that bastard," Merle growled in what he must have thought was a comforting tone, "as soon as I'm done with the Governor, I'm gonna have that little _creep."_

Laurel gave a shaky little sigh and moved closer to him; he put his arm tightly around her, his face pressed against the top of her hair, and held her there. Laurel pulled her hand across herself and held on to his neck, breathing heavily. _It's over, _she kept telling herself, utterly relieved. _It's all over._

"We'll set off as soon as we're up tomorrow," Merle told her, "get back to the prison, sort things out from there."

"And what about Michonne?" she asked, grabbing hold of the front of his shirt and crushing the fabric between her fists so that she could feel his heartbeat there. "We can't leave her."

"We'll come back for her," Merle lied, knowing that, in this state, she would accept nothing less._ Woman is probably dead anyway, _he thought,_ 'sides, it would have happened this way regardless of everythin' else- you were gonna hand her over yourself, remember._

"When?" Laurel asked quickly, "she could be dead already, or he could be-"

"Soon," Merle interjected, "don't you worry, darlin'. We'll come back for her and kill that son of a bitch stone dead."

"Good," Laurel breathed after a long time, "...good. He deserves to die after all he's done."

"And he will," Merle concluded. She let go of him then and sat up in her own seat, staring out of the glass panel in front of them. Laurel pulled down the sun visor of her side, drew away the mirror guard and caught site of the purple bruising against the bone of her cheek and upper brow. She let out a sigh, lifted up the hem of her yellow dress, still a little damp from the earlier antics; she pressed the fabric against the dried blood beneath her nose and used it in tiny little circle motions to erode the dried dark scar of blood away. She let out a sigh, prodding the bruises with the tips of her fingers and flipped the visor back up, adjusting herself in the seat and turning to Merle so that she was sat with her knees on the chair facing him.

"What?" he asked, sensing that she was fixing to tell him something or ask him something or just plain something. Laurel swallowed, as though nervous, and whispered,

"You know what you said? About when we were down in the tombs?"

"Ah, look, darlin', you already know I feel bad about knockin' you out-"

"No, not that," she tried, "the _other_ thing... do you remember?"

Merle stopped and smiled at her. _Of course I damn remember,_ he thought, imagining his hand back around the gentle curve of her waist and her arms around his chest, her sweet lips and the blush of her skin.

"...That was goodbye, right? 'Cuz you knew you were leaving. And that you might not be coming back."

He was a little surprised she'd sussed that out, though he wasn't sure why. "...Yeah," he admitted, looking just above her head rather than at her grey eyes.

"...How about a hello?"

He looked at her then, watching her face with a tight expression- he saw the tiny inquisitive spark ignite behind those grey lenses, gleaming even through the darkness the night had brought, and gave her a smirk.

"A _'hello'_, eh?" he drawled, impressed by her quiet forwardness, "and how exactly might a_ 'hello'_ go?"

"I dunno..." Laurel started, feeling herself blush a little now- she gave him another tiny smile as leant over to her.

"Maybe somethin' like this?" he mused, and gently pressed his mouth against hers briefly- Laurel felt her face flame, intoxicated by the gesture._ Get a grip,_ she told herself as Merle grinned at her and went to pull back, but found that she put her arms tightly around his neck as he went to sit back straight, as though he might disappear at any moment.

"No," she told him quietly, her eyes skimming his face, "...like this."

Cautiously she pressed her lips against his- he grinned, impressed again by her reaction, and quickly found that he was properly kissing her, eyes closed with his hand caught up in that yellow hair. She pulled back eventually and leant her cheek up against his own, breathing quietly with his rough stubble etching into the bruised skin of her face. Her cream hair, mingled with the smell of Greeley's cigarettes and his own cigarettes and blood and salt and lemon, _still lemon beneath it all,_ light strands of it tickling at the side of his face, caught onto the stubble- she let herself melt into his arms as he wrapped them around her torso, pulling her a little closer and drawing in a deep breath. Quietly she leaned closer to him, stretching up so that her cheek could rest against the top of his head; this brought her violet neck to the height of his face and he found his lips pressed up against the skin there, leaving a soft line of stubble-grazed kisses along the plain of taught white skin.

Merle felt a deep burn within his chest, an ardent wrench which caused his skin to prickle; he swiveled her swiftly from her seat, lifting her by the waist for a brief moment so that she was knelt across his lap, one knee atop his thigh and the other against the edge of the seat fabric to his left as his hand caressed her hip. Merle hooked his now bladeless arm around the back of her neck, drawing her down closer to him and smothering himself against her collar; he could feel her pulse there, strong and heightened in the blushed skin, and bit lightly at the skin at the isthmus of her neck. A low sound crumbled through his chest and he felt her hands tighten around his shoulders- he pulled her down closer against himself, letting her know exactly what it was he wanted from her. She buried her head a little closer to him as he dug his fingers into the skin about her hip bone, breathing her in and kissing her throat. He felt her skin prickle at his touch, a gentle sigh through her silence, and let himself think for a moment.

He could have her right here if he wanted to, sat out in this car in the middle of no-mans land with only the cold night to interfere; she was emotional and scared and relieved all at the same time, and he knew that meant he could do pretty much anything he wanted with her if he put his mind to it and she'd go along with it, because her head was all over the place and he was the only stability she had left.

She wasn't stopping him as his mouth continued to explore her throat, his chin veering right down to her chest then back up to her jaw; but she wasn't into it, neither, he could feel that. There was no lust behind the lips against his cheek, just a tenacious need to be closer to him, to have evidence that he was there, that he cared about her and that he wasn't going to leave her alone out here, distraught and damaged. Her kisses were slow and she held him with careful fingers, as though she barely even registered the hunger in his grasp, her softness an alarming contrast to the biting teeth and crunching claws he was used to when he's had a woman on him like this in the past- sitting like this meant one thing and one thing only in his experience, and hell knows he'd had a lot of it. While his hand was up her back, down her thigh, all over her white skin, hers stayed near his face, his shoulder; he laxed his hand a little and pulled his lips from her skin a moment, seeing what she'd do, and found that her motions remained the same as though she hadn't even noticed that he was touching her at all; it only mattered that he was there, that she could feel him and know that he was real. She pressed her lips to his check thrice over in the silence, slowly and carefully with her eyes still shut tight, then leant her face against the side of his, cupped her hand across his jaw and held him there, breathing heavily. Her chest rose and fell as the two stopped moving, and he slid his hand back down from her back, held it away from her as though touching her might violate some holy ground- the silence continued to batter against him as he observed what was going on around him. She didn't seem to have registered his abrupt lack of movement, and still held him where he was, that same warm breathing, the same slow tilt of his head against her own as her upper body moved with the air filling her lungs. He let his arm come around her, holding her by the top and middle of her back, being sure to go no lower as he felt something warm touch the side of his face.

Laurel's body shook against him then, and he realized that the warmth against his cheek was wet; she had begun to cry. At first he went to say something, to try in some way to console her, but before he could even find a word she squeezed him tighter, burrowing against his flesh and began to sob, heavy cries that her entire upper body contract, the skin of her lips shuddering. He sighed, letting her cave in against his shoulder, kissing the side of her hair and moving her leg so that she was no longer sat on top of him but across him, her legs both pointing to the car door- he couldn't have her there like that, bent over him like this was something it wasn't, not when she was like this, not when all she wanted- all she _needed-_ was him there, to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay; so he did just that. She leant against his chest and he brought his arms back around her, taking hold of the hand that wasn't slung around the back of his neck and holding it tightly; he cradled her like a lost child, his face against her musky hair and his fingers locked through her own.

"We've lived our whole lives to get here," Laurel breathed, her fingers massaging the lemon fabric of her dress now as her other hand locked around his neck, "...every single moment up until now has brought us to this place." She breathed carefully, letting his hand stroke down the side of her neck. "Is... is this where you want to be?"

The corers of his mouth twitched and he brushed a light kiss atop her golden head, staring out over the top of it as he listened to her breathing.

"Darlin'," he said to her eventually in a quiet drawl, holding her close as she breathed into his chest, "there ain't nowhere in this whole damn world I'd rather be right now."

Merle let her stay there as she breathed heavily with silver tears against her cheeks, her head rested carefully against his chest- he stroked the pale threads of her hair and held her there until she fell asleep.

**AN: I AIN'T EVEN GONNA_ ACT_ LINE I DON'T LOVE THOSE LAST FEW LINES. ****OH GOD MY LERLE FEELS. ****All those Greeley hate feels combined with all those Lerle feels... I can't even *explodes***

**Apparently the reviews are playing up- boo :( A couple of people have said they can't leave reviews for some unknown reason- is anyone else finding this? If you are, please PM me and let me know x**

**_And in the words of Merle:_ MILTON. FUCKING. MAMET. Ily Milton. ****Free at last! P****hew, woo, let's throw a cyber party! I'll bring the Pringles if someone else brings the alcohol! I nominate _YOU,_ random reader!**

**There was a very, _VERY _different ending to their 'escape' originally... in which the Governor has, shall we say, a ****_'change of heart'_****. It's pretty damn dark. I never should have written it, but... it exists. If anyone would fancy having a read of it, let me know- it'll make you spit out your cocopops, kiddies, that's for sure. If you thought that deleted chapter with Greeley and Laurel was bad... well... no.**

**And also guys, I have to apologize for not replying to all of your reviews the last couple of chapters- I feel like a bad person :( Please don't think they're unappreciated, I've just been a busy bee the last couple of weeks. I'LL GET TO IT. **

**-Wiza x**


	46. Chapter 46: Return

**AN: EHRMERHGERD 400 REVIEWS! WOOO! Thanks guys! Once I've finished it i'll put up the 2nd half of Laurel's back story in the AU's in celebration ;) **

**I tired to make a trailer for Imprisoned but it totally failed and just ended up being a Merle tribute video so yeah go check it out and sob that the only new Merle material there will ever be will be purely Fanon. watch?v=s3aog_BzNWs**

**Chapter Forty-Six:**

**Return**

Daryl's plan had worked thus far- Axel had shot out front, the guards had ran to the front of the town to find the source of the commotion and were now struggling aimlessly in the muddle of their own gunfire through the smoke bombs Axel had thrown over the fence. The rest of the group had snuck in at the back of the town, and were now struggling to find their way around the bare stretch of land within.

"The warehouses," Glenn reminded them, "they must be through this way- come on, let's move!"

The group snuck quietly down the two alleys leading to the warehouse store rooms, passing only one stationary guard who had not fled to the onslaught of bullets at the front of the town, who they subdued quickly then carried on.

"These ones," Glenn said, attacking the door of the unit Maggie had been kept in, "this is where we were, she'll be in here-"

The door refused to give, and Carol brought forth a small pick axe from the bag she had brought in with them- she struck the lock several times over, and the door gave. Maggie pushed the thing open to reveal not Michonne, but a small light-headed man chained to a surgeon's chair within. Blood ran from a short wound on his forehead and his eyes were bruised, wrists bleeding in the effort to escape his ties- without question the group entered and began to untie him.

"Who is this guy?" Maggie asked, pulling loose his ties.

"He's with him," Rick explained, "or at least he _was-_ when we met at the silos he was with the Governor-"

"Listen to me, you have to get out of here," Milton whispered quickly as Maggie took the gag from around his mouth, raising his hands with Glenn's gun carefully against the back of his head, "you have to leave, _now-"_

"We ain't goin' nowhere," Rick barked, "now you're gonna tell us where the hell the Governor is, and where the hell he's got our people locked up-"

"Merle and the girl aren't here!" Milton tried to explain, "they're gone-"

"What do you mean, they're gone?!"

"I let them go," Milton said, "that's why I'm in here- we need to _go!"_

"What about Michonne?" Maggie asked as the group headed back to the door, a gun still cautioned against Milton's head, "where is she, is she alive?"

"I... I don't know. Come with me, I know where she is."

The group headed out of the warehouse ad Milton jumped straight to the next room across.

"Is Michonne in there?" Carol asked hastily as Milton itched with with the lock,

"No, but..."

He managed to break open the door and inside, bound to a chair in a similar manner as he had been sat Doctor Alice Stevens, hands clenching in distress as she fought with the chair. Milton and Carol spurred forwards to untie her.

"Hurry!" Maggie yelled, "we've got movement out here!"

"Shit," Carol hissed, pulling Alice from the chair and hauling her from the room; Maggie raised her gun as three sets of footsteps yearned around the corner- three figures appeared, all with their own weapons heightened.

Glenn recognized the pair as two of the people who Carl had found wandering down in the tombs; the ones Rick had kicked out. The third was a small curvy woman with dark hair, who must have been in her mid twenties and had her free hand perched on a thick dagger which was peeping from the pocket of her jeans. The two women looked as though they would shoot any of them dead without a moment's hesitation, yet the man was more weary; he went to yell something, but then noticed Milton and Alice. He lowered his firearm slightly with an uneasy, questioning expression.

"What the hell is going on?!" the unknown woman yelled, and Alice grabbed hold of her arm.

"Mirya, don't shoot," she sang to the edgy woman, "It's been him all along, the Governor-"

"_What?!"_

"The things he's been doing- none of it's been the people at the prison-"

"He's over the edge," Milton says, "trust us, we need to leave, all of us together."

"Why would we leave with that lunatic?!" Sasha yelled, pointing at Rick, "he kicked us out onto the street-!"

"You're going to have to trust us," Carol whispered hurriedly, "please, we have to get out of here-"

"I'll show you!" Milton called, quickly- follow me."

The newly extended group, Mirya, Sasha and Tyreese very uneasily following along, briskly moved with Milton down the next isle; he veered sharply around a corner and out to the largest warehouse on the block.

"She's in there," he choked, rattling the door- once again it wouldn't budge, and Carol yielded the axe and hacked at the chain binding the door.

"What the hell is this?!" Sasha hissed, and Milton pressed a finger to his lips, wrangling with the door.

"I'll do it," Rick said-_ this was his fault, after all._ Rick kicked in the door to Michonne's warehouse unit; as he pulled back the metal and stepped inside, his heart dropped into his stomach.

"Christ Almighty..."

**~oOo~**

The next day had come more sharply than Merle had anticipated; he had been awoken by Laurel's gentle touch on his arm, shaking him awake from the back seat where she had ended up sleeping; he sat quickly to see a Walker scraping up at the window.

"Oh, fuck you," Merle growled at the thing, rubbing his eyes and starting up the car, driving them away from the beast and out onto the highway.

The pair drove on for another twenty minutes, and it was only then that they came to the conclusion that they were travelling in the wrong direction.

"It must have been a right turn, not left," Laurel reasoned from the back seat as Merle performed a reckless U-turn, his split lower lip irritating him as he tried to gain his bearings. He pulled over the car at the side road, gesturing for Laurel to jump out, and lead the girl down the bank at the side of the road and down to the opening of the river.

"Yep," he said, pointing to the direction the water was flowing in, "wrong fucking way, just _brilliant._ Should have checked before we set off..."

"I know this place," Laurel said, looking around it inquisitively, "I swear this is... back at the store, there was this little section by the river we used to come down to when we needed water. It was only five minutes away-"

"Darlin', all bits of river look the darn same," he drawled, checking the area quickly for any signs of life. Seeing none he said, "just gonna go and uh- water the shrubs. Don't you go nowhere, y'hear?"

Laurel grimaced. "I won't."

When Merle returned, he saw that Laurel was stood on the bank of the river, her dolly shoes on the grass near him, facing the water with her hands bent at her sides like a bird about to take flight. He watched as she drifted from the banks and out into the slow moving shallow stream, moving cautiously as the water ran around her legs, weighing down the hem of her lemon dress. She stopped about half-way to the center where the current began to pick up, cupped her hands into a bowl and brought some of the liquid up to her face. She drank a little of the cool water then patted some over the bruised webbing of her neck- the scalding water of the Governor's torture attempts had left the skin of her face red, and the thin epidermis beneath her eyes and around her hairline had begun to blister overnight. She pressed her fingers to the reel of purple contusions around her neck, and remembered the Governor's hands there, the bite Greeley had given her- the memory made her feel sick.

Laurel crouched low in the water so that she was covered up to her waist, and carefully moved her hands over the cuts at the tops of her thighs beneath the water, washing away the crusted blood. It stung as her fingers touched the wounds, and she wondered it the lacerations would be deep enough to scar- she certainly hoped not. She glanced at her sliced forearm, its bandage removed by Greeley's hand to reveal the cut which Merle had accidentally made and the five tiny scratches Greeley had given her. Merle noticed her looking at it from the banks of the river and sighed.

Laurel squirmed a moment in the waters, letting out a little shriek as she slipped on the muddy banks below and fell, smacking against the river bed- she sat up quickly, her mouth full of water and liquid soaking her hair, and Merle gave a little chuckle as she stood, wringing wet.

"What was that?" he laughed, noting the way her dress plastered to her figure, the fabric slick against her thighs, and watching her intently as she made her way back out of the river, wringing wet and defeated, the sunlight gleaming on her drenched shoulders.

"A fish, I think," Laurel said, shuddering theatrically and coming up onto the banks with wet mud on her feet, "It touched my leg and I freaked out... ugh."

Merle smiled again and watched her as she wiped her soles on the bright green grass; she shivered in the sunlight, arms wrapped across her chest and her sodden hair folded against her cheek.

"Shall we stay here for a little while?" Laurel questioned, coming up next to him and looking out at the river. It was nice, this little place- no Walkers around, just the sound of the shallow river on the pebbles and the hum of birds, the glow of the sunlight and the soft, long grass beneath her feet. She could have sworn this was near the same place the store she'd stayed in was- the smells, the sounds, were all so familiar.

"Nah, we gotta get back... let them folks back at the prison know we ain't dead yet."

Laurel nodded, though she looked a little saddened at leaving the place- it reminded her of being back in the supermarket, reminded her of Veau and Darren. Merle saw this in her face and gave her a little throaty cough.

"Alright then- five minutes."

Laurel grinned, grabbing his hand sharply and pulling him down to the grass- he smirked and let her, and the two sat there looking out over the river as Laurel twiddled blades of the ripe green grass in her fingers, staining them with smears of chlorophyll. Despite the pleasant atmosphere, Laurel couldn't help but feel uneasy.

"I- I feel really bad about Michonne," she confessed, keeping her eyes on the grass between her fingers, "we... we left her there with the Governor and-"

"Come on, darlin', don't think on that just now. We're gonna go get her once the group's back together-"

"But what Milton said- he said he'd seen what he was doing to her, made out like it was really bad, what if-"

"I know. But we'll sort it. We'll make it right."

"And Milton, he's still there. The Governor's gonna figure it out sooner or later-"

"Don't worry about it, just let it go over your head for now," he advised her, not wanting to talk about it himself. "There ain't nothin' we can do about it right now, so let's just leave it."

Laurel nodded unsurely, shifting a little where she sat. Merle tried to brush away the stoic air by asking,

"Uh... how's your legs holdin' up?"

"Alright," Laurel replied, tugging at her stained dress and shivering a little from being soaking wet, "how about your arm?"

"Better." _Lie. _

"Come on, then, sugar," Merle said eventually, "let's jump this place. We gotta get back and let them folks know our hearts are still beatin' fore they loose their rags."

Laurel nodded and found her way to her feet, the fabric of her dress sticking to her legs as she did so- Merle hooked her arm to stop her tripping as she lost her footing on a pebble stone.

"Let's go, then," Laurel crooned, treading lightly as the two began their way back through the thicket of the forest; a noise caught Merle's ear and he stopped her, listening out for it; it wasn't a natural sound or that of a Walker as he had first suspected; the noises emitting through the forest were most definitely human. Merle grabbed hold of Laurel's arm and pulled her in the opposite direction of the noise, deeper into the protection which the forest's mass of trees offered.

"What is it-?"

"Shh."

Laurel leaned closer to him wearily as she too became aware of the noise; it was voices, more than one of them, on the opposite side of the river about 50 yards from where they stood; Merle pulled her down so that they were crouched below a stocky black bush. The pair listened closely as the small group jittered away in rapacious conversation, laughing amongst themselves loudly. Laurel watched carefully through the thickets of green as the men, of whom she counted six, began to scoop up water into large barrels which they had brought along with them.

"Oh, look at this beauty, boys!" one of the men laughed, shuffling over as a bone-thin Walker lumbered closer through the forest, her dark red hair matted with soil and blood, "bet she was a real looker before all this shit- what do you recon? a nine? a ten?"

"Definitely a ten," another of the men acknowledged, scraping his knife on the ground before moving up to the beast and jabbing the blade through her eye.

"Come on, Ev, more of 'em are gonna start coming around here," another growled, "get the water and let's jump this place."

"Fine, fine," the young man loading the water into the containers barked, scratching a hand through his head of bright orange hair, "give us five seconds..."

The men hung around the area for another five minutes or so before picking up their containers and heading off back over the slope on the opposite side of the river. Merle and Laurel crouched still in the bushes, waiting a few more minutes before seeing it appropriate to move again.

"Glad we didn't have a run-in with those lot," Merle said, motioning Laurel quickly back up the slope on their side, cracking open the door to the car and hopping in; she took longer than he'd expected, and when she sat in her seat in the car she seemed somehow vacant. He watched her for a moment, her eyes gazing emptily out of the window, and eventually eased,

"...What is it?"

"...Those guys," Laurel said eventually, in a quiet voice void of her usual bright nature, "those guys were the ones who took our store."

"What?"

"The store, where I was at. I recognized the red-headed one, and those containers were the ones we used to use. It was them... I said I recognized the area, it was definitely them."

Merle didn't know how to respond to that- he muttered something emptily under his breath and started off the car, driving them back in the right direction towards the prison.

**~oOo~**

When Merle and Laurel arrived back at the jail they found that the outer gates were still tied; Laurel jumped out and unwound the orange wire holding the fence together, held the gate as Merle drove through then rewired it back up. She jumped back in the vehicle, still quiet from the shock of having been confronted by those men down by the river, and the pair made their way to the inner gate.

"There's no-one up in the guard towers," Laurel noted suspiciously, peering out of the smudged glass window. She got back out of the car again, fiddling through the fencing and yanking the pull lock. As Merle parked up the vehicle she walked already to the door of the cell block, opening it carefully and easing inside; rather than the bustle of life, she was greeted with a gun to her face. Carl stood there with a knotted scowl, hat welded to his head- Laurel watched as his expression changed from anger and anticipation to mild relief, replaced swiftly by concern as he lowered the weapon.

**AN: Whoo, there it is- worked my damn ass off to get this written today, so really hoping you guys liked it :D Let me know! And to those of you who were having trouble reviewing the last couple of chapters, thanks so much for PMing them instead, really means alot! Have spectacular days- but not until you've read the...**

**Alternate Escape!**

_**You asked, and so you get it. Don't blame me when you hate me for it ;)**_

_**So yeah... this was originally going to happen. Part of a complex Governor plan which has turned to cinders and been replaced by an even more complex story-line- hurrah! Originally none of the Greeley/Laurel stuff and the whole drowning thing happened- In fact, as you may notice by his absence, this was actually written BEFORE I invented Greeley. A world without Greeley... mmm. Let's all just absorb that for a while. I'm not even going to tell you what was originally going to replace the Greeley/Laurel and drowning bits because it's so horrific it was just... oh my God. Where do I come up with these things. But anyway- may we proceed.**_

The door of Merle's unit groaned open loudly, causing him to open his weary eyes.

There he stood- In the doorway, the Governor eyed him with that vile contentment he always wore, like the sun shone bright out of his very ass. From behind him Shumpert and Dean filed in, and came swiftly over to Merle. He allowed them to lift him up under his arms- whatever he wanted now, he could fucking struggle with it. _If I'm gonna to die,_ Merle thought, _they can carry my ass to my deathbed._ He'd done enough for this bastard already.

"Got a surprise for you," the Governor smiled, turning as Shumpert and Allen began to drag Merle from the room. Merle didn't say a word in reply, just scowled at the back of the bastard's head, thinking of all the things he might have rammed through that sick skull of his. Blood still wept from the bandage beneath his shoulder and it was agony there- for half a second he felt he might pass out, but the feeling soon subsided as he realized he was being taken outside. Compared with the strobe lighting inside the warehouse unit, the inky black of the night sky as he looked zenith, with the moon's secret glow upon them, felt ethereal- strange.

Merle heard a gun cock in front of him- so this was it. This was where they were planning to do it, here, as far back as Woodbury's walls ran. Merle tensed his muscles- he wasn't about to go down without a fight, not when his brother was still out there and these bastards still had his little sweetheart locked up in some cage.

But then, out in front of them, Merle saw a figure; a man, stooped over the hood of a car, a billow of smoke mushrooming up from his mouth. He was stood by the passenger's side, and the driver's door was wide open. As they neared, Merle realized it was Martinez, the Governor turned.

"Get in," He said brightly to Merle. "Drive home, back to your prison; tell Rick and your brother and the others not to come back. My boys have already set the engine running for you- warmed her up."

From inside the car came a crushed sort of whimper, and Martinez smacked his hand against the glass of its window.

"Shut up," he said sharply, drawing in a drag of his cigarette. The Governor took the wick from between his right hand man's lips, and pushed it up in-between Merle's own.

"Sorry for any inconvenience caused," he said, tapping his hand hard against the wad of padding taped over Merle's bullet wound. Merle said nothing, a scowl of confusion and raw hatred on his face, and the Governor directed him into the car. Merle shrugged off Shumpert and Dean and hunched himself into the driver's seat.

Laurel was there in the passenger's side, belted up with her hands tied together, a black gag around her mouth and a thicker one over her eyes. She was whimpering beneath the ties, blood still between her legs; Merle frowned, struggling to hold the little restraint he had left. He clutched his hand over the driver's wheel and prepared to drive out through the metal grid which Shumpert and Dean were now disassembling from the defensive wall.

"You've got a full tank," the Governor said, "and I trust you'll be wanting this back..."

He handed Merle the blade from his prosthetic, and then handed him the gun he'd been carrying.

"I trust you'll have the sense not to use this until you're a long way from here," the Governor mused, and Merle saw the head of Martinez' gun pressed up against Laurel's window. She was still wheezing, her whole body shaking unstoppably.

"Drive safe," The Governor chided, closing Merle's door and tapping on the side of the vehicle. Reluctantly Merle began to drive out, watching the Governor and his men through the rear view mirror as they got further and further from Woodbury. When he saw the fence panel being replaced, Merle slowed the car.

"It's alright now, sweetheart," he said consolingly to Laurel, his hand reaching out to her arm. She gave a sob through the gag, and Merle moved his hand up to the wrap around her eyes- Jesus, she was scared as hell still. Couldn't stop crying for the life of her. Carefully he removed the bandanna from around her eyes and let it fall into her lap. When he looked over at her, ready to look into those whirlwind grey eyes and give her some comfort through all this, let her know she was safe at last, he almost swerved the car off into the woods.

"Holy shit..."

Laurel's eyes were gone.

Two hollow, blood-drenched sockets lay in their place, weeping as the girl herself did. Merle pulled the vehicle up on the side of the road- Laurel convulsed beneath the ties around her, blind and in heavy, excruciating pain.

"Oh, sweetheart... oh my God."

**AN: Yep... no Lerley car scenes to be had there. It's the 'warm her up' bit that gets me... ughhh. We know what you were euphamizing** _*just invented a word*_**, Gov. Shivers, and not the good kind. Fuck you Governor. Just FUCK YOU.**

**I'M SO SORRY LAUREL**

**I DIDN'T MEAN TO TAKE YOUR EYES**

**Lol jk. I was totally gonna. BRUTAL.**

**Remember to leave a review, guys! x**


	47. Chapter 47: Together

******Chapter Forty-Seven:**

******Together**

_As Merle parked up the vehicle Laurel walked to the door of the cell block, opening it carefully and easing inside; rather than the bustle of life, she was greeted with a gun to her face. Carl stood there with a knotted scowl, hat welded to his head- Laurel watched as his expression changed from anger and anticipation to mild relief, replaced swiftly by concern as he lowered the weapon._

"Where's my Dad?" he asked, and Laurel gave him a confused glance; she looked over her shoulder at Merle, who stepped up behind her and told Carl to move his ass out of the damn way.

"Where are they?" Carl repeated, but no answer graced his ears. Laurel stepped inside unsurely, glancing around the block- Beth appeared from the doorway to the cell, casting a bright shadow on the musty room. Her light face fell and Laurel swept over to her, arms extended as she wrapped them around Beth in a tight embrace.

"You're okay," Beth breathed, "we thought... we thought the pair of you were-"

She pulled back a little, suddenly registering the amount of damage Laurel had incurred in her absence; her hair was ratted and damp, her face bruised and cut, skin blistered at her hairline. She brushed her fingers carefully down the side of her friends face to see that her pale neck was purple with bruising, shaped like two hands hand been there, limbs grazed and dressed stained with a concoction of matter that Beth found she didn't want to ask about.

"We're alright," Laurel tried consolingly, "really, both of us are okay... where is everybody?"

"Who is it?" called Daryl's voice from in the block, "have they got Merle with 'em? Is that _Laurel?!"_

"I'm here, baby bro," Merle yelled, "you doin' alright?"

"I'm fine, get in here!" Daryl cried- Merle was about to shout at him to move himself in here instead, but noticed the way Carl's expression changed and realized something was up. He walked past the two girls still hugging in the passage between the two rooms and looked about for Daryl- he found his brother on the other side of one of the cells, his hands grasping up at the bars. Daryl noted the bruising to Merle's face and arms, the patched up wound on his shoulder from where the bullet had cut him, and blew a sigh of relief that it wasn't any worse than just that.

"Hell, you're alright," Daryl mumbled in exuberant relief, catching hold of his brother's arm through the bar, "what happened out there, you got _shot, _man-!"

"I've been through worse," Merle told him, "why in the hell are you caged up in there like some puppy dog? You been pissin' on the carpet again?"

"The lot of 'em shoved me in here before they left, said I'm still half cut, told me I'd mess up the fucking operation. It was my damn plan in the first place-"

"Where have they gone?"

"What... you mean they ain't with ya?"

"No," Merle confirmed, "...you sayin' they went after us?"

"Yeah, last night, they went out after the pair of ya, and 'Chonne- Glenn, Maggie, Rick, Carol and Axel all went-"

"Jesus," Merle growled, "why in the hell would they do that, they _dense?!_"

"Well we weren't just gonna leave ya! That psycho bastard's got it in for you. I thought..." Daryl swallowed something back and squeezed tighter at the steel bar, reaching equilibrium with the heat of his burnt skin. "...Jesus, Merle, I thought you'd be dead already."

Merle reached out slowly and squeezed Daryl's arm through the bar- about the closest thing to affection the Dixon brothers ever displayed to one another. It wasn't much, but it said to the both of them everything they needed to know.

Laurel shuffled back through the cell block, still clinging onto Beth, and Daryl caught sight of her. _Christ, she was cut up worse than his brother was._

"Hey, Daryl," she sighed, smiling at him a little- he gave her a small nod, still baffled by her burnt out appearance, and didn't say another word until she had dissapeared further down the cell block with Beth.

"They done any worse than just beat all hell out of her?" Daryl whispered carefully, eyeing Merle darkly as he watched the two girls retreating into the end cells where the babies were sat, Laurel's stance slumped and bent in at her legs.

"She says they haven't," Merle replied in an equally reserved voice, "but I don't know if I believe her or not. There was this one little fucker-" Merle thought of Greeley and found he couldn't even get his name to scrape off his lips. "I'll fucking kill him."

"What happened out there?"

"They took us up to the town, locked us back in the warehouses... beat the shit out of me, did worse to her. Then Milton, of all people- the scrawny cat you met when y'all went out to those Silos- turns up, gives us a car and tells us to get the fuck out of there while we still can. Slept out in the car for the night and drove straight back."

Daryl nodded, stunned by it all and trying still to ignore the pain in his neck- something brushed over the back of his mind which he couldn't shake.

"And when you slept out in the car, do you mean actual sleep or-"

"Jesus, boy, is that all you think about?! _Sex, sex, sex,_ always on that damn brain of yours," Merle taunted him, gesturing with a wide palm to where he knew the girls to be. "Does she look like she'd be up for that sort of shit, state she's in? Like I'd do that to her."

That last bit didn't sound like Merle at all. Daryl glanced back to the cell the girls had wandered into, remembered how cut up Laurel had been and thought maybe his brother wasn't bullshitting him- it was a long shot, of course- Merle was Merle, after all- but maybe he hadn't taken advantage of a situation that, in Merle's eyes at least, was prime- beat up little girl with only him to rely on in the whole world. Beat up _blonde_ little girl at that... the idea that Merle wouldn't_ 'jump into the front of the buffet que'_, as Daryl had often heard him put it, when the situation was as it stood, was difficult to believe. But maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth for once.

Merle thought of what had gone down in the car, of how close he'd come to getting some action before she started crying and leaning on him and all that hoopla. He would have, would have damn loved to, but she was torn up and he was in a state himself, after those beatings and the bullet he'd taken and the lack of sleep. Having a go might have finished him off- hell, he might even of passed out flat in the middle of the act.

"...'Sides... if I'm honest, bro, don't think I'd have had the energy myself. This shoulder's givin' me more grief than I'd like to admit. I could do with a brew, some nosh and a good solid sleep."

"We ain't got time for none of that," Daryl rebuked him, "we gotta sort out the others- they're out there still-"

"Not much we can do with you behind them bars there," Merle gawked, then called out to the cell where Beth had gone. "Hey, blondie, get out here a minute," he yelled, and a few seconds later both of the girls poked their heads around the cell, each of them holding one of the infants. Laurel had her face buried tightly in Alvi's hair, and looked a little disappointed when she found Merle's attentions were to be directed at Beth rather than herself.

"Where's the keys, kiddo?" Merle asked Beth, and she gulped.

"...Rick said we shouldn't let Daryl out until they got back, he ain't well enough yet, Daddy said his concussion won't be straightened out until a good few days-"

"Well, we ain't got a good few days, and I'm standin' in for Rick now, sugar, so you'll do best to tell me where those damn keys are, comprende-?"

"I've got the keys," Carl said defensively, still stood on the steps- he glared Merle down with a hard expression that showed he wasn't scared of him in the slightest.

"In which case, give them here now, kid. Come on, if you know what's good for ya."

"Or you'll do what? Beat me up like you did to Glenn?"

"Or I'll tip you by your heels and shake ya till they fall out ya pockets," Merle warned him, taking a step closer.

"That's enough," came Hershel's voice- the old man had been asleep in the furthest cell, only just woken by Beth.

"Come on, then," Carl goaded Merle, coming down the steps in a forceful manner.

"I said that's enough," Hershel repeated, hobbling closer- he touched a hand to Laurel's shoulder as he passed and held a hand out for Merle to shake respectfully. "Glad to see the two of you home," he said. "Where are the others?"

"They came back by themselves," Carl informed him, "everyone else is still out there, we should be going after them-"

"'_We?'_" Merle laughed, "what we are you talkin' about, kid? You think you'd last five minutes out there? Me and Daryl'll go, you lot keep here and brew us up something to eat when the load of us get back. Give me the keys, and we'll go right now."

"No," Hershel rejected, "Daryl isn't ready to leave-"

"How many times, old man, there ain't nothin' wrong with me!" Daryl yelled, "If you'd let me outta this damn cage you'd see I'm just fine, sweet as damn peaches!"

"You can't have made an instant recovery," Hershel scalded him with a controlled demur, "you were in a potentially fatal accident, you need longer than a few hours. And as for you, Merle, you've been shot. Come through here, let me take a look at your wound-"

"This ain't the time for proddin' about in my skin, Old McDonald," Merle called, "this is life and death, and if you're wantin' your daughter back here in one piece you best let us leave-"

"It's them!" Carl yelled, back up in the doorway as he heard the roar of an engine outside, "they're back!"

**~oOo~**

Woodbury was in chaos- the events of the night before had battered the town. Phillip watched from the windows of his apartment, one of which had been blow out, as the residents of his town bustled left and right in desperate attempts to make sense of all that was happening; a group of around fifteen of them were set up to leave, their belongings packed up in vehicles and their feet on pedals as they drove out of the town; no one tried to stop them, bar Greeley and Martinez stood at the town's entrance wielding their weapons with little gusto.

_Let them go,_ Phillip thought, _they won't last long out there anyway._ He didn't care about these people anymore; he had, in the beginning, but now they were simply a distraction._ Let them die,_ he thought.

Eight were dead, mainly from friendly fire of the Woodbury soldiers up front through the confusion caused by the smoke bombs- Shumpert had taken a bullet to the chest and had died there and then, two more of the soldiers had been killed in the crossfire and four ordinary residents were dead, having been mistaken either for invaders from the prison or perhaps Biters. To the Governor's rage, the opposing team had suffered only one casualty- and a casualty which did him no good other than to rally support amongst his own people... at least those who decided to stay, anyway. Upon their discovery, of whom there had only been he and Martinez to conduct whilst the others fought against the air at the front of the town, he had managed to shoot a bullet into the back of the head of Alice. She had fallen then and there, and he had decided that he could at least blame her death on the invading prison group- much to his rage he had lost four more potential allies; they had released Mamet and he had gone with them, and Rick's group had swayed Tyreese and his sister, Mirya also; but no matter. they still outnumbered them vastly, and Phillip decided he could simply add to the Woodbury death toll and claim they had been murdered, also.

Phillip bubbled beneath his skin. He had lost five captives in one night; Merle, the girl, Milton, Doctor Stevens, but most painful of all... he had lost Michonne. Michonne, the woman whose torment could never amount to enough to satiate him, of whom he had only begun to make suffer. For taking Penny away from him, there was nothing, nothing he could ever do to pay her penance for what she had done; but he had been determined to recreate his own pain on her canvas in the closest way possible. Because there was nothing, nothing he could ever do to her which would make her feel the agony he felt every day, nothing which could stimulate the turmoil and torture he relived every waking minute since she had ended Penny's life. If she thought she was safe, if she thought this was over now, she was completely deluded- there was more, _so much more_ he could do to that woman, so much more he _would_ do. If any of them at that prison, hiding away in their steel cage, be it Rick, Merle, Milton, Michonne, or any of the others who though that this was over now, they couldn't be further from wrong... he would wait, bide his time, and the he would strike with more force than he had ever before been able to muster, and he would pick apart everything any of them had, he would rip their hearts from their chests and burn their home around them. Because this was not over...

_This will never be over._

**~oOo~**

The assembly of the truck burst out of it's rackety bullet-ridden doors and onto the concrete flooring of the courtyard- hurriedly the group blustered up the stairs, exploding into the cell block with a dominant force- for a few seconds there was nothing but noise, an erratic bubbling of energetic sound charging the air with an almost electric force, as the group realized that everyone was here, that they had survived, and nothing could be seen through the hot blur of panicked tears between family and friends, shared out even amongst those with no particular connection to one another- Sasha found Beth's hands welcomingly around her neck despite them having no knowledge of each other, Mirya the same, and Tyreese found Hershel's hand clasped in his own and Milton was stunned to find Merle's arm wrangle around his shoulder with an exemplary force, rubbing his fist against the top of his head with a laugh. Laurel clung to Carol, Maggie's hand on her shoulder as she hugged her sister tightly, and Carol found that she was almost in tears, horrified by Laurel's appearance.

"Sweetheart, what have they done to you?" Carol breathed, her voice thick, and Laurel pressed her head against her tiny frame with a flurry of noise.

"I'm fine, really, we're both fine, I'm so glad you're okay-"

Rick embraced Carl quickly, moving straight to where the babies were, now being held by Axel and Beth respectively, and scooped Judith up in his arms and breathed in her light smell.

"Get those doors locked," Rick barked across the block, and Glenn quickly obliged with the help of Tyreese.

"Where's Michonne?" Laurel asked heavily as she pulled from Carol, "did you save her, and Milton, is he with you-?"

"They're here, they're both here," Carol reassured her, "but Michonne..."

She couldn't explain what she had seen in that room. Michonne was alive, yes- but she wasn't _alive._

"Can I see her-?"

"Let Hershel see her first," Carol tried, "she- she needs him to clean her up, she needs medical attention before we-"

"Oh, God!" Laurel cried, "It's our fault, we shouldn't have gone without her-"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Carol almost yelled at her, pulling her to herself again, "none of this is your fault, and don't you dare thing otherwise. What happened... it's... he's a sick man, Laur."

"What has he done to her?"

"I..." Carol couldn't even begin to explain. "She's hurt, real bad. She's shot- Merle did that- and it hasn't been treated, and there's... some other things. Things that Hershel can help with."

"She's... she's not gonna die, is she?"

Carol shook her head lightly, drawing her arm around Laurel's heavy shoulders and pulling her back into the rest of the group. She looked over at Merle, their eyes catching across the cell block, and he gave her the smallest of nods before turning away.

**AN: Aww, reunion :') **

**RIP Alice, I'm sorry that I killed you- moments silence for our fallen brethren, if you please :(**

**Oh Michonne... she's purposely absent from these last couple of chapters, guys, it's not just me being lazy XD We'll have quite a bit of Michonne next chapter... get you hankies ready. It's gonna be a bumpy ride.**


	48. Chapter 48: Reason

_**AN: Quick heads up: I re-wrote the first chapter... now I LOVE IT. GO, READ IT before you read any further- it flows so much better. NEW SCENES YEAH! WOO RE-WRITES! **_

_**I'll post the original chapter in the Companion so that people can still read it if they really want to- **__**and I've added some more extra bits to the previous chapter, so go check it if you fancy it! It's not much, but I still really like the little alts and think you guys will too ;D **_

_**I was mistaken when I said this chappy has lots of Michonne- that's actually the next one. Sorry, bros. Regardless, hope you enjoy the chapter, guys!**_

_****__***imagine a bad Bane voice* Once the new first chapter has been read, you have my permission to continue reading.**_

_**Have you read it yet? Good. Then on we go.**_

**Chapter Forty****-Eight:**

**Reason**

As Michonne was taken away from the group by Axel and Tyreese to receive Hershel's expert attention in one of the larger cells, Glenn began to recount to the others what had happened.

"Hey!" Daryl cried out, "'fore you start story time, fancy gettin' me out of this damn cell?!"

Carl obliged, and Daryl slumped out, rolling his shoulders and standing next to his brother; Rick was weary for a moment that he might react badly like he had the first time they had locked him up, but the man seemed docile enough.

"What happened out there?" Beth gasped, stunned by the whirlwind of events, "is everyone back okay? ...Who are these guys?"

"Milton Mamet," the specky man greeted, raising his hand to the group.

"No one cares, Data," Daryl growled, moving through the group, "did you kill _him?_ Is he dead?"

"...No," Rick answered, "no, he isn't. We only caught a glimpse of him when we were breaking out of that place-"

"He killed Alice," Sasha told the group wearily, still unsure whether or not coming here was a good idea, "one of ours. Shot her, right in the head. And that woman with you- Michonne, is it? What he's done to her..."

"It's sick," Mirya said, "he needs to die. I've never seen..." Mirya's words trailed off, and she found herself looking over at the cell where the old man and Tyreese had just taken the woman they'd rescued.

"And Andrea..." Rick began, rubbing his face with his hand, "...Andrea's dead."

The room fell silent.

Most had known it, of course- they had seen it first hand on their exorcism of Woodbury, had see the vile fate which had befallen one of their own- it was a loss everyone in the group could share, both those from the prison and the Woodbury escapees, and had been the final straw in Sasha, Mirya and Tyreese's decision to leave Woodbury and return back with this group who had received Milton's favor. Even those who had not known the woman felt sick at the loss; Laurel saw Carols eyes begin to water and gave her hand a tight squeeze. As the group absorbed the news, Maggie reached over to where Sasha stood, her rifle precariously over her shoulder.

"You'll live here with us now," Maggie reassured her and the others who had come from Woodbury, "we need to start preparing for whatever's coming. The more people the better."

"No," Hershel began, "No, we need to_ leave._ This place isn't safe anymore, we saw that when that psychopath came here and took two of our own from right beneath our noses."

"That was just bad luck," Daryl glowered, "it was just... bad prep, they were over in D, if we all stay in C, go over the borders again-"

"Then the Governor will charge straight through them," Hershel interrupted, hands working hastily at Michonne's wounds as she lay in semi-consciousness in the seclusion of the dark cell, "we need to go. As soon as possible. We never had any trouble like this out on the road, it's only while we've been stationary that we've encountered any problems with other humans. The farm with Randall's group, here at this prison... It's time we left."

"But... this place is _perfect,_" Laurel defended, arms clutched around her chest to hide the tear there in the fabric, "It's safe, there's so much space and we've got everything we need. We can't just give it up... there must be some way we can just put a stop to the Governor-"

"_'Put a stop to him?'_ Ain't gonna happen, sweetheart, not unless he's dead as a door-nail. We've tried talkin'," Merle said, "we've tried reason, and it just don't work. We need to go up in there, kill him dead and show the rest of those folks who's boss."

"And who_ is_ boss, Merle?" Maggie interrupted, "_You?_ Rick? The problem here is that we're divided- we need to choose a path and stick with it-"

"Merle's found the right one," Daryl told them all, "we strike. We make a quick plan, burst up in there and take out as many of them as we need to."

"No!" Milton said, "no, they're good people-"

"Well they'll be _dead_ people if they come here and try to start somethin' again. If anyone points a gun at us they'll get a bullet twixt their eyes."

"Hey, watch what you're saying!" Mirya snapped at him, "those people are our friends, they're not the loonatics you seem to have them down as-"

"Watch yourself, Jimmie Krankie!"

"Alright, _Cletus,_ if you've got something to say-"

"Yellin' at each other like loons ain't gonna help no one," Axel pointed out, and Mirya nodded, rolling her shoulders and giving Daryl a quick glare.

"Let's... let's talk rationally about this," Rick said, doing a quick mental headcount. The group settled in and out of the cells, on edge as their discussion began.

"We need someone out on watch," Maggie pointed out, and Beth quickly volunteered before disappearing out with Carl. The rest of the group sat anxiously, hurling ideas backwards and forwards, as the decision whether to fight or take flight became increasingly difficult; both Dixon brothers were adamant that staying and fighting was the only course of action they could take, whereas Hershel, Axel and Carol seemed to think that leaving was the only real option.

"We're alive by pure luck," Carol pointed out, "what we risked last night, that was life and death. It's a miracle we only lost one person, we can't put the whole group at risk again-"

"But those people back in Woodbury," Sasha defended, "they deserve to know the truth, they can't go on living with that bastard at their heels-!"

"We have friends there," Tyreese mentioned, "Allen, Ben, others... we can't just up and go. We have a responsibility as human beings to look after those others- who knows, with what he's done so far, he could turn on them any second- massacre the whole town!"

"He's a loose canon," Sasha agreed, "who knows who he'll hit next?"

"That may be true, but we're outnumbered," Glenn hollered, and Hershel nodded from the cell he was in. "We haven't got any choice but to go- Woodbury has an army... what, twenty, twenty-five guys?"

"More like thirty," Merle affirmed, and Rick let out a thick sigh.

"Thirty men," Daryl glowered- "but- if we do it quiet, just take out the Governor, he's the only one who's got it in for us-"

"The rest of 'em aren't just gonna roll over once he's gone," Sasha called, "you people haven't seen it- those people hate you, they don't know you've got women and children- they just think you're some sort of bunch of maniac murderers after their blood, their food and their home."

"He's probably blamed Alice's death on you, too," Milton pointed out. "After what happened with Karen-"

"Who?" Someone asked, and Milton gave a brief summary of the woman Michonne had murdered upon her entrance to the town. "And not just that- when Phillip sent that group after her, she killed everyone but Merle. Crowley, Tim, Gargulio-"

Merle swallowed hard.

"All I'm saying is that even if we go take out the Governor, war can't be averted. Woodbury is an army- we have ten capable people at most. If we're going for this, we need numbers... numbers we don't have. Attacking head on just isn't an option."

Merle had been thinking quietly for quite a while now, his eyes fixed on Laurel as the others had been debating what to do. He watched her, biting the nail of her thumb earnestly as she listened to the conversation, and decided now was the time to speak.

"What if we did have numbers?" He drawled, eyeing the others as they turned to look at him, confused expressions inviting him to go on.

"...We ain't the only ones round here," Merle began, "there's others, apart from the prison and Woodbury."

"...How do you know?"

"I've seen 'em," Merle affirmed, watching Laurel still as she appeared to have not made the connection in her mind- then she recalled earlier that day, seeing those men who had ransacked her home back at the store, and violently shook her head.

"No," she said allowed to Merle, eyes wide and half-pleading, "no, that's not an option-"

"We need numbers," Merle rebuked her.

"No!" Laurel grieved again, "you know why- how could you even _think_ about hanging with those guys, they're bad news! You know what they tried to do, Merle, how could you even-!"

"What guys?" Rick asked, and Merle briefly retold that Laurel and her pals had been living in that supermarket and a large group had come along and swept it from underneath their feet, as she stood there with a pained expression, arms folded across her chest as she leant into Carol a little. Merle saw the way she watched him, her eyes squinting a little through her discomfort and what he might have thought to be hurt; he finished his brief retelling and she quietly spoke up.

"They didn't keep me alive out of some sudden change of heart or moral awakening," Laurel reminded him, "you know what they'd have done. Why would you even suggest... what, that we go and find them? Try and make some kind of deal?"

"We need numbers," Merle defended, "they've got 'em."

The room went silent. Eventually, in a very slow voice, Rick spoke up.

"...How many?"

Merle looked to Laurel, who had just given a thick sigh and looked utterly horrified.

"About thirty you said, didn't ya?" Merle tried to affirm, but Laurel shook her head; not in denial of his statement, but in a pleading protest to his suggestion. Eventually she affirmed his statement, trying to slip away into the back of the group.

"We can't make an allegiance with them," she said again, "we _can't."_

"It wouldn't be permanent if we did," Rick tried to console her, thinking over the idea in his mind, "If we could just talk with them-"

"They're not the type to 'just talk!'" Laurel cried in outrage, "they shot one of my friends and cracked the necks of the other two without so much as a word.I'm sure you've guessed by ow why they decided not to kill me- and that was just half a dozen of them, can you imagine what there entire group would be like-?!"

"We had something they wanted, so they took it- no reason, no talk. Just cold, ruthless murder. And that was just a little store- imagine if they saw this place, it's a goldmine! They out-number us, like you said- and if they see our home, if they want it, they'll take it. We can't risk that!"

"We ain't got much choice," Merle retorted, "you said it yourself, it's a goldmine here. Any of y'all willin' to give that up?"

Rick hated the idea of working with anyone else, of doing some sort of sick team-up to take out Woodbury, but their options were wearing thin- go see these guys, risk whatever that might bring, die here or go out o that road again... they couldn't do that. They'd barely survived last time, and back then they'd had no babies to look after, the group was half it's size and Hershel had still had both of his legs. They'd survive a month, two at most before they started loosing people... loosing their family. If seeking help from this group was their only way to keep this place, then maybe that needed some serious consideration.

"...We wouldn't tell 'em that we're set up here," Rick suggested as he considered the option, "we'd... we'd say we were nomadic, convince them we're roamers having trouble with another group. A group that's set up good. We use Woodbury as a bargaining chip- they help us out, we give them the town."

"And what about the people in Woodbury?" Maggie pointed out, "it ain't like they're just gonna up and move out."

"We could give them a choice," Glenn offered, "if this group don't want them around they come back here and live in one of the other cell blocks, or they go off on their own."

"There are dangerous people there," Carol pointed out, "the Governor's not the only one who wants us dead. He has an army- they view us as attackers, they won't want to live with us. We don't_ want_ those kind of people living with us. Its all very well saying they can go off on their own, but do you really think they won't put up a fight?! Woodbury is a goldmine as much as the prison is."

"If people gotta die, they gotta die," Merle said with a shrug of his shoulders, "like Darlena here said, you point a gun at us, a bullet's flyin' in your direction. Some of those guys are bad news, they gotta go- Shumpert, Martinez-"

"Greeley," Laurel added, glowering at him- Merle caught her eye, saw the stone set in her face, and looked away. There was disappointment there, anger that he knew what she'd been through with these guys, _he knew,_ and still he'd suggested it. _  
_

"Think of the supplies," Glenn pointed out, "how will we cope, feeding and providing fr all those new people- the ones who decide to stay will probably be thse with kids or the elderly-"

"We split Woodbury's between the load of us," Daryl contributed. "That way we've got food... and we don't let these guys know we've got women, neither, not just that we're settled. If they were like that with Laurel, we don't want 'em knowin' nothin' they don't need to."

"Fake names," Tyreese suggested, "if by some chance their paths cross with the Gov before hand, you don't want them hearing the name Rick, or our own names. We keep out of this as much as possible-"

"-If we do decide to go ahead with it," Glenn added, and the others nodded. Laurel looked positively exhausted by it all.

"We'll talk some more this afternoon," Rick suggested, "Let's eat, get some rest... visiting this other group form help is just a suggestion, but at least our options are open. Later, we decide what the best option is, all of us- we'll put it to a vote. Like I said before, this isn't a dictatorship. _We_ decide, this is _our_ group."

The group gave a resounding nod, some more certain than others, and filtered around the block in search of comfort, food, and well-deserved rest.

**~oOo~**

The group quickly dispersed, and when Merle eventually went to talk to Laurel, knowing that she was pissed with him over even suggesting they affiliate themselves with the group who had killed her friends and held her captive, he found that she was no where to be seen; he decided to ask Carol, who said she'd gone to clean herself up in the generator-powered shower block they'd found in D with it's murky water reserves. He decided to follow, but Carol confronted him before he had the chance.

"Maybe you should leave her alone for a little while," she suggested, folding the last of the washed clothes. "She's been through alot in the last couple of days. I think she needs some time to think... I know I would."

"I gotta talk to her," Merle rebuked, "she's pissed at me for tellin' the others about that group at the store. Gotta clear the air, y'know?"

"Of course she's pissed with you," Carol told him, "can you blame her? In her eyes, you just introduced a new threat to this place- to her, to the people she cares about-"

"Damn it all, woman, don't you go startin' on me as well. Don't you think I've got enough shit to deal with without you playin' little miss moral compass? Give me a fucking break-"

"I'm not saying you were wrong," Carol defended, "I think it's good that you suggested it- like you said, we need options. If we go about it in the right way, working with those people could be the right choice, so long as we keep our groups separate from them and make it a one-time thing... but Laurel, what she's seen from them, you have to understand why she's upset. She's scared, Merle... we all are. To come back from Woodbury after what's just happened to the two of you and have that thrown in her face... well, you can understand her concern."

Merle guessed she was right in a way- he hadn't thought about it like that. But what was he supposed to do, not even bring up one of their most viable options just because the idea scared that girl? Sure it was risky, getting involved with a group like how she'd portrayed them, but if that was the only way they could keep this place and get rid of the threat of Woodbury once and for all... maybe it was the right path. Seemed like a pretty damn clear choice to him. Merle gave Carol a brisk nod and headed back out of the room, making his way out to cell block D.

**AN: ****RIP Andrea (again) :'( Poor Michonne, that's the last thing she needed.**

**I apologize for all the talking this chapter, guys- SO MANY THINGS TO DISCUSS. Oh, Woodbury. Bloody town, let's just burn it to the ground and be done with it, their giving our people far too much hassle. And as for Mich, we shall discover all the things next chapter. And, of course, there will be Lerle. LOVIN' SOME LERLE.**

**I FIGURED OUT WHY SOME OF YOU CAN'T LEAVE REVIEWS- Because I combined chapters 1&2 and moved the Greeley-Laurel chapter to it's appropriate place, the numbers have changed so those of you who reviewed the last chapter can't review this one- to combat this you could post your reviews as a guest by logging out if you want, but due to it being my retardedness that ruined the reviewing stuff don't worry ;)**

**Until next time, folks! **


	49. Chapter 49: Burn

**AN: T********o the delightful guest who put about the Bane quotes... HIGH FIVE!**

**GUYS, I FORGOT TO ADD THE MIRYA BITS WHEN I FIRST UPLOADED THE LAST COUPLE OF CHAPPIES! GRAHHGUHAGHH! Basically Mirya is one of the OC's, and she came back with sasha, milt, ty etc to the prisonoola. I've added them in now, so either y'all ca go back and read the added bits, or just carry on with the knowledge that Mirya is a Woodbury resident who ended up coming back to the prison with our gang. ANYWAY, onwards!**

**This is basically the Michonne chapter. Oh, Mich ):**

**Here I will warn you that there is some very dark content- the entire section will be in _italics_, so when you reach the massively italicized part you'll know to skip if you don't fancy it. M****ore info on the dark section if you're on the fence below, but contains minor chapter spoilers:**

**Basically we discover what happened to her at the Governor's hand, but the material is very heavy and not for the faint of heart- I don't really want to 'M' rate the entire fic (People will think it's kinky then anyway, and we all know that's not the case), so It's graphic in the violent sense, very macabre, but sexual-wise I have tried to deal with what happens as tactfully as possible.**

**On to the chapter!**

**Chapter Forty-Nine:**

**Burn**

Merle decided to take the ten minute walk through to the D block in order to meet Laurel and have it out with her over the issue of the group at the store. He entered the passage via the back door to the tombs, where he had confined himself when for some reason drinking an entire bottle of ever-clear vodka had seemed like a wise idea. He passed the two bottles as he moved down the corridor, the one he had been drinking from tipped on it's side with a dark stain beside it, the other still sealed and upright just a little further away; Merle thought of retrieving it, but after what had happened last time he'd decided to take a drink, he found the bottle better associated with anger than relief and kicked the thing out of his path as he walked.

Eventually Merle arrived in the courtyard of D block, with it's blown-out Jacobin desk and bullet-ridden truck, he ran his fingers over the dents in the vehicle as his feet crunched on the broken glass of the car window. Beside the driver's seat was a dark stained patch of what he realized was his blood from the bullet he'd taken to the shoulder- with a grimace he moved on, coiling his hand around the door to the tiny shower block and rasping his fist on it. There was no answer so he repeated the action, calling out her name- still nothing. Cautiously Merle pulled open the door, and found that none of the showers were running.

"Laur?"

Still no response.

"If you're in here, sweetheart, you best grab a towel mighty quick, cuz i'm comin' on in..."

Still nothing- Merle peered in each of the open-doored blocks, but there was no sign of her.

"Fucking brilliant," he growled sarcastically, coughing into his hand from the smell of the stagnant water and coming out of the cell blocks. Annoyed, he turned back on his heel and trecked through the dark extended pathway again, moving quickly to try and shorten the time wasted on the journey. He kicked aside the bottle and realized that it's partner- the unopened twin- was missing. He looked about a moment suspiciously, but there seemed no explanation for it; Merle continued his journey out of the tombs and unveiled himself back to the group, where food was at last prepared- he took his fill of it and went to sit with Axel and Milton, both of whom were engaged in some form of enticing conversation with the other.

"And they says to us, _'we're goin,'_" Axel told Milton, _"'you ain't, so repent your sins and hope for the best._' Then they were gone, abandoned the prison and that's the last we heard of the outside world... 'til these folks arrived, that is."

"And you formed your own mini society?"

Axel laughed at that. "Course not," he chortled, "people were killin' each other left right and center, a little group of us barricaded ourselves up in the canteen- didn't hear a peep from anyone 'till these folks turned up. It was hard, but... at least we were away from the Walkers, unlike you folks. Guess prison was the best place to be."

Milton scribbled notes down onto the small note book he'd pulled from his pocket with a rough pencil- Merle snatched the paper from him as he passed and Milton reached out for it with an uneasy expression.

"Merle, I need that back-"

"Oh, relax. I'm just takin' a peek at all you're nerd notes... you really think this shit's gonna help us piece the world back together?"

"It's social science," Milton explained, "social history... someone needs to keep an record of it, otherwise-"

"What, the world'll go to shit?" Merle laughed, and handed him back the note book, walking on through the cells. Carol appeared in her doorway, and Merle could see his brother sat in there, knees drawn up on the bed, all pale with his head against the back wall- guess he still ain't right after all.

"Laurel's asleep," Carol told him, "she came through not long ago. She doesn't look right at all, but at least she's clean now and has a change of clothes. She wanted to see Michonne... Hershel wouldn't let her in. He's still cleaning her up."

"Jesus," Merle breathed, glaring at the ground. "...She alright? Michonne?"

"...No," Carol admitted, "no, she's not. There's that bullet wound..."

Merle breathed tightly; hell if this wasn't his own fault, at least in part.

"And... and he's cut out one of her eyes."

"Fuck," he hissed, fingers tightening around the bar.

"I know. When we found her, she was really torn up... half-naked, bloody... she was a mess. She's been through hell these past few days. And Andrea- God, Merle, you should have seen her." Carol found she couldn't go on- though Merle remained stoic, she could see the horror hidden behind his icy lenses. "How are you holding up?" she asked, trying to dismiss the subject, at least for now.

"Right as rain," Merle drawled slowly, still thinking of Michonne, and gestured over to Daryl without a word.

"He's okay," Carol informed him, "he's just... like Hershel said, it's concussion, whiplash. Think he just needs to sleep it off a little longer."

"Right," Merle agreed, and went to move back to sit with Axel- Carol stopped him and said quietly,

"I'm going up on watch. I think he'd like you here. Come on in, just... sit with him a while. He thought he'd lost you... he needs his big brother right about now."

Merle furrowed his brow and gave her a meaningful nod, rolling his shoulders and stepping through to the cell.

**~oOo~**

Michonne had been utterly stoic since Hershel had treated her wounds; she had not said a word, not given any response to the pain she must have been in. He had bandaged her wrists and cleaned up her leg in the hopes of avoiding infection- clearly the Governor had not decided to have her treated like he had done with Merle. Every inch of her skin was bruised, and Hershel found he could not even imagine the torment she had been through- he glanced back at her as he made to leave the cell and leave her to her thoughts.

Michonne felt no pain anymore. Well, she felt it, but found that the pain was no longer important- she would rather have had her heart torn from her chest than go through the psychological torment she was faced with now.

Andrea.

Andrea.

_Andrea._

There was just that one thing on her mind, that single word which she couldn't fight away. She let her eyes close again, and found that each time she did, she was forced to relive that final visit from the Governor- he had invaded her warehouse countless times over their short stay, to the point where she wished she would just die, as the torment she faced whenever he decided to_ 'pop by'_, as he called it, was too much to endure. But then there was Andrea, and what he'd do to her.

_Andrea._

All those other visits were nothing compared with that last hour he had been with her before Milton and the others had burst in- Michonne blinked, hard, and found herself back in that eternal moment.

_Andrea..._

_Michonne shook, her body burning both inside and out. She could see Andrea from over the man's shoulder, tape covering her mouth and eyes red as rubies, streaming yet again with tears as she choked behind the gag. Michonne was still in her gaze, barely blinking, staring hard at her friend; setting an example as to how Andrea should be. Stay strong, don't let him get to you, she tried to convey, but all Andrea saw was a blankness, a void in the orbs of Michonne's face which she couldn't understand._

_The cuffs around Michonne's arms, round metal loops, were by no means tight- she could easily have slipped her hands out of them, took him around the throat and fought until she was able to break his neck or he killed her, but she could not; if you move, I'll kill her, that's what he'd said. So she had kept her hands in the metal rings through the days of abuse, not once even entertaining the idea of attempting an escape._

_He had physically brought Andrea into the room that morning; perhaps he had thought it would make the ordeal more difficult for her, but it was proving to have the opposite effect; having Andrea there before her, a reminder of what she was continuing to fight for._

_Emotionally Michonne had shut down- her body had refused to fight any longer, but refused to co-operate, also, making the experience more painful than it might otherwise have been. Even as he leant his head on her collar, sighing a little, she did not respond. He pulled away from her, standing and re-arranging his clothes. Michonne kept her eyes on Andrea the whole time, never faltering._

_It was then that the Governor had Michonne's Katana sword brought into the room. He unsheathed it, admiring the double blade and stroking each point with his finger, sweat glistening on his forehead and through his dark hair._

_"I'll let you keep your eyes for now," he told Michonne, as though it were a kindness. She said nothing, concentrating on the blood trickling down her thighs. "I want you to see this properly, every inch of it- don't want you to miss a second."_

_He approached Andrea then, breathing heavily in her chair, gargling beneath the duct tape gag._

_"Are you listening carefully?" The Governor called to Michonne, ripping the tape from Andrea's mouth, taking the skin of her lips with it. Andrea began to plead with the man, calling out to Michonne- frozen with horror and knowing that a movement on her behalf would mean her friend's death._

_"Are you watching carefully?" Phillip asked, unsheathing the katana-_

_"Andrea-!"_

_Suddenly, as though it were nothing at all to him, the Governor drew the blade across Andrea's chest, disemboweling her and spilling her innards out onto her lap. Andrea gave a wailing scream, a choke that Michonne could have sworn was her very name, before the Governor drew back the blade again and plunged it into Andrea's chest, just above her heart._

_Michonne made no more sound, physically incapable of moving now, her body frozen with shock. Andrea's eyes held Michonne's a moment longer then her entire body went limp, head snapping back over the spine of the chair, and Phillip drew back from her for a moment, before kneeling beside the bloody body and calmly moving his hand inside the slash he had created across Andrea's stomach; Michonne watched in utter dead shock as he worked his arm inside her, pushing past her loosened lungs and up inside her rib-cage, squeezing her heart and pulling it down through the squelch of displaced organs. He tore it out of the slash in the woman's stomach, the cloth of his arm now heavy with the weight of blood, and took a few steps closer to Michonne; he threw the wet organ at the woman's feet, landing in the stain of Michonne's own blood, and turned back to Andrea's body._

_Michonne stared at the organ near her bent feet, eyes barely registering what it was; tears were streaming from her ducts now, though she still made no sound, showed no other sign of her inner anguish. She looked up slowly, to see the Governor with his arm against the back wall- writing on it, so it appeared._

_Writing in Andrea's blood._

_Calmly he dived his hand into the mess of organs strewn across the woman's lap, squeezed his hand there so that it dribbled in blood, and moved back to the wall. Once he had finished scrawling his message, his prophecy and doctrine written in the blood of that dead woman, the Governor took up his blade again, still dripping with blood, and made his way over to Michonne, who was still shaking with shock and entirely immobile. He raised the Katana to her face, nicked her lip with the top of the blade- still she did not move, utterly dead inside, the very last of her resolve splattered before her in the mush of sacred bodily parts and the swell of blood around her legs. She breathed hard, glaring down at her own reflection in the gleaming pool of blood, and saw his shadow there, haunting her, leaning over her with a persistent lurch._

_"Look at me," he said, though it wasn't in the forced tone he had been speaking to her in over the last few days; it was with a certain kindness, a softness that made it sound almost pleading. With a shuddering breath she obliged, staring hard into his raw eyes as they threw her a final smirk. Then she saw it, out of the corner of her eye, the glare of silver- and that was the last thing that eye ever saw._

_Michonne did not scream, even as the tip of the blade sunk into the flesh of her eyeball and span itself around. She had no time for screaming anymore, and the pain, though agonizing, registered to nothing compared with the intensity of the agony she felt within her. Andrea, Andrea, Andrea, was all she could think, all she could feel, and the name swirled within her like a carousel aflame. It was hot and it was beautiful and it was agony, an intense fire which her emotions could not blot out, and the name raged within her even as her body shut down. Her good eye closed, too, as the Governor crewely destroyed her eyeball, reducing the organ into a squelching mush which represented the churn of innards across the corpse of Andrea's lap. Eventually he removed the blade, stroking a hand over the bloody face of the woman he sought to eternally torment, before wiping the red stains across her dark hair and laying the katana out in front of her._

_Over the next few hours, Michonne stared at Andrea's dead body with her remaining eye, upright in the chair bar her fallen neck, and wondered if she ought take her hands from the loops yet. She found she could not, that her hands felt heavy, almost as if they were welled there, but she knew this to be untrue- she thought about it again sometime later, but could find no good reason to remove herself from her imposed bonds._

_She watched the ashen corpse lie bound in the chair by her hands and feet, utterly immobile and stained with the pale grey of death. Andrea's corpse was utterly still, battered and bruised and bleeding, always bleeding and soggy with heavy red. The damage her chest cavity had revived was beyond repair, everything that was within her now out of her. And still, in time, her head reeled back from over the back of the chair. A strip of blonde hair, dyed red with blood, stayed plastered over the right eye of the reanimated corpse, hiding it from vision as she reared her head up, teeth grinding and muscles twitching against the restraints upon her, a thin growl emitting through her mangled vocal chords as she glared hungrily at Michonne through her one visible clear lens._

Michonne was pulled from her thoughts as some unknown figure stepped into her doorway.

"I got you some water," Mirya tried as she stepped briefly into Michonne's cell. The dark woman sat utterly passively, staring absently at the grey wall as she relived her horror over and over, her hands still mentally within those metal rings, Andrea's name still singing over and over in her mind. Mirya wasn't sure why she'd come in here, but she felt obligated- as though she should have known what was happening, she should have seen the signs in Woodbury being dangerous, in the Governor being dangerous... she felt like an idiot, and she felt almost responsible. If she had paid better attention, read between the lines, maybe she could have prevented this happening.

They had found the woman... _Michonne,_ she recalled- tied up in one of the warehouses; that was the point Mirya knew she couldn't stay in Woodbury any longer. She had been covered in blood, naked up to her waist with her one eye stabbed into her skull and her hands still hooked into those metal loops as though she had forgotten that she was able to break loose. They had had to physically remove the woman's hands from the iron cuffs, at which point she had stood without a word, picked up a katana sword which had been discarded to the floor, walked with purpose over to the corpse of Andrea stapled to the heavy surgeons chair, and drove the blade through the eye of the corpse; Andrea's reanimated form had shuddered to a halt, withering as Michonne let go of the blade, leaving it sticking through the eye of the Biter- they had left without another word, the blade remaining in the corpse's skull.

"I'm sorry about what happened to you," Mirya said, sitting on the foot of the woman's bed. "If I'd have known..."

_What, Mirya?_ she thought, _what would you have done?_ She'd like to think she'd have burst in there, broken this woman from her cage and got the two of them out of there as quickly as possible, hopefully talking out the Governor on the way- but somehow she reasoned things would have not gone that way. Her eyes flickered over the broken form of the other woman, her bottom lip swollen and cut, her missing eye bandaged by the hand of the old veterinarian, and she closed them swiftly. For now, at least, this woman just needed some time alone to think- Mirya understood that. She stood quietly, murmured for her to call her if she needed anything, and stepped out into the cell block.

**~oOo~**

"You should be proud of that little woman of yours, brother," Merle told Daryl shortly after the boy had woken up, "she really stepped up these last few days, didn't she?"

"Don't call her that," Daryl absconded.

"Call her _what?"_

"_'my little woman.'_ Sounds like some sorta... prize at a funfair."

"Well she's a prize you've won, for sure," Merle remarked, and Daryl smacked him. Merle remembered that woman's words to him back when he'd first come here;

_Don't underestimate me._

Well, he had, and she was a damn sight braver than he'd have ever given a little mouse like her credit for- going out there to Woodbury, knowing the chances were she might not be coming back.

"Bout time you started givin' her somethin' back... well, I can't stay in here with you no longer, Darlena, your borin' me to death. I'm gonna go find somethin' to eat, I'm hungrier than a bus full of starvin' hippos. See ya later." Merle remembered the car crash, the fear he had felt when he'd thought Daryl dead... Jesus, he wouldn't have bee able to cope with loosing him, not again. He turned a little, swallowed awkwardly and added,

"And, uh... glad you're okay, little bro."

"...Yeah," Daryl drawled, squirming a little beneath the sheets, "glad you're alright, 'swell."

The older Dixon nodded and Daryl watched his big brother disappear out of the corridor, closed his eyes and pulled the covers back over his arms with a thick sigh.

**AN: P****oor, poor Michonne. A good few of you have picked up on the Gov in this story being more like the comic version in his evil-ness, and this, for those of who who have read the GN's, is based on the Governor's kidnapping of Michonne in the comics, minus Andrea- he holds her hostage in one of the warehouses and literally rapes and beats her for days. It's horrific- in the show, when we see the Gov testing out his torture room, those metal rings were a reference to what happens in the GN's, as was what happened with the Gov and now he must die, in the most vicious way we can imagine... give me some suggestions here guys.**

**AND WOAH- you remember I re-wrote the first chapter? First night I did (when the review-fail chapter was posted) I got double the views. Like, Literally. Usually on new-chapter nights Imp gets 250-450 views, and that night it got 835. I literally pulled the Mr. Bean face at the screen. ****If you guys leave a review this chappy, could you be a dear and just let me know whether or not you enjoyed the last one? Having buggered reviews sucked... oh well ;D**

**Until next time!**


	50. Chapter 50: Leave

_**AN: LOOK AT THIS! 50 CHAPPIES! DANCE PARTY DANCE! Here, take some celebratory Lerleness :3**_

**Chapter Fifty:**

**Leave**

"Has everyone made up their mind?" Glenn asked, looking about the mess hall where they had gathered in preparation to vote on what to do about the Woodbury situation. Everyone was there except for Michonne and Laurel, both of whom were still asleep; the group decided it was best not to wake them. They had been discussing what to do for over an hour, arguing and debating and worrying, but it seemed now was the time to consolidate their decision.

"Let's vote, then," Glenn decided, and everyone agreed that they were ready to make their choice. "Let's do a ballot-"

"No," Merle suggested bluntly, "waste of time... let's do this old-school. Hands up, y'all. Anyone for sittin' around on our asses, doin' nothin' much at all and tryin' to defend this place?"

No hands were raised.

"No takers," Merle noted after a few more quiet seconds, "guess you're all a hella lot smarter than I thought. Who says we head out on our asses and hit the road?"

Hershel's hand raised, followed by Glenn's- the little support clearly surprised Hershel, and he gave his two girls a questioning look.

"It's not the right call, Daddy," Maggie said, "we couldn't survive out there..." she turned to Glenn with a hopeless glance. He gave her a nod, showing her that he was glad she was sticking to her convictions, despite he himself disagreeing with them.

"Well, guess that ain't happenin', then," Merle drawled, "let's go for the big 'uns... who says we go out to Woodbury, try and kill the Gov off our own backs?"

This time, hands were raised- five of them. Mirya, Maggie, Carl, Beth and Sasha all raised their limbs skywards.

Merle did a mental headcount and nodded, satiated. "And who says we try this other group, take Woodbury on with some help?"

And the decision was made, there and then. Merle's bladed arm raised upwards immediately, along with that of his brother- Tyreese mimicked the gesture with a glare from his sister, Carol's arm raised with the greatest caution, Milton and Axel following... Rick looked out over the sea of hands, counting them in his head, and realized he had the swing vote; go with his instincts, head for this store and try their luck, or make it a stalemate. With a sigh he raised his hand, to which he was met with a mixed reaction from the group- Merle gave a low laugh and smacked him on the back encouragingly, Daryl gave him a nod of agreement and those who had voted otherwise looked away or held their heads in their hands. Mirya tried arguing it the other way, tried to convince the others in favor of just taking on the Governor and not making a war of it, but no one wanted to sway their vote.

"Tomorrow, then," Rick declared, "we go tomorrow- we need this sorted and over as soon as possible. We plan tonight, leave in the morning. The decision's made."

**~oOo~**

Merle stayed seated as the group dispersed, and found that he was sat with only Glenn accompanying him, his head buried over one of the screwed-in tables as he counted out bullets to refill the glock he carried in his pocket. Merle considered moving to avoid the conflict which would inevitably arise between the pair if they stayed in this room together- the kid hated him, that was for sure. He understood it, so he couldn't hold much of a grudge- he thought of all the crap he'd put this kid through, kidnapping him and his girlfriend, hanging him off that balcony... he'd feel the same if someone had tried that on him.

"This shit between us," Merle started in a graveled voice, "...it's gotta stop. I get that now. No more fights in the middle of the corridors like this is some sorta recess, no more shoutin' off at each other over stupid shit."

Glenn looked up at the man, surprised. "Is... is that an apology?"

Merle gave a firm nod, his pride a little wounded, but didn't say another word. Glenn tried to make sense of his sudden change of heart, and nodded briskly.

"...You understand it now," he realized. "You know what it's like, to see someone you care about be put through that... he did it to Laurel."

Merle gave a gesture that showed him he might have just hit the nail on the head there. Being kidnapped, having the hell kicked out of you, even the getting _shot,_ that was nothing... but when someone you actually give a shit about is pulled in to it with you, that's when it hits you. The Governor might not have put his hands on Laurel like he had with Maggie, but Greeley sure had... Merle remembered the rage when he'd believed she'd been raped. He'd seen her hurt, suffering, heard her screaming and gagging for air when she'd been drowned, when she'd been locked up in that room with that little shit; hell, he couldn't remember ever feeling so het up. And that's what he'd done to Glenn- not him directly, but he'd caused it. He wouldn't wish that shit on anyone.

"I'd like it if we could... bury the hatchet," Merle drawled, and Glenn took a moment to consider. Like he'd told Daryl, if it had just been him then maybe, _but Maggie..._

"It's up to her," Glenn told him firmly. "Maggie, I mean. She's the one you hurt-"

"Then I'll go talk to her-"

"No," Glenn interrupted, "no, you won't. ...I'll talk to her."

******~oOo~**

Mirya checked in on Michonne twice more, and both times the woman was asleep- or at least pretending to be. She wandered out into the courtyard, sipping away at a mug of minestrone packet soup, bulked up with savory oats and croutons to give it some substance- glancing about, she saw movement in the top guard tower and headed up the steps to see who was up there- she could do with a little conversation. Rasping her fingers against the door, she opened it up and peered in to see who was there;

_Oh._

"What you doin' up here?" the rugged-looking man asked, his grown out hair plastered against his dark forehead; Mirya questioned for a moment whether or not to stay; a_h, what the hell._ She was bored stiff, and conversation with this guy had to be better than nothing at all.

"Thought you might like some company," she said to him, sitting in the chair beside him and looking out through the perspex glass.

"You thought wrong..."

She sucked her teeth at him. Neither of them said a word for a long time, until Mirya kicked her feet up on the desk and drawled,

"Ain't much of a talker, are you?"

"Nope."

"Well you could at least give me your name."

"...Daryl."

"Huh. I'm Mirya."

"Yeah, I know."

"How?"

"Cuz I listen when people talk, unlike some people round here..."

"Watch it, Cletus."

"Stop callin' me Cletus."

"Alright, alright... tetchy." She took a long sip of her soup and rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

"I'm bored out of my mind," she noted, her hand itching on the hilt of the knife in her pocket; she looked over to Daryl, but he gave no response, just kept rubbing his thick fingers with their bitten-down nails over the paintwork of his Horton. "That's a nice bow," she commented, and he hugged it closer;_ Jesus, this kid was odd_. She'd met some freaks the past year, but this kid was up in the ranks.

"So how'd you end up with this group?"

Daryl seemed reluctant to answer, introverted into his own little bubble, but eventually drawled, "me and Merle met them on the way into Atlanta at the start."

"You knew Merle before all this?"

"He's my brother."

"Oh..." _explains alot._

Time went by and Mirya found she could stand it no longer; she decided to throw a proposition Daryl's way which she hoped he'd at least consider.

"So... fancy giving it a go? ...Rocking the casbah?"

Daryl nearly fell off his chair, mortified with shock, getting quickly to his feet in an escape attempt, and Mirya laughed rapaciously.

"Just kidding, choir boy... you're not my type. Fancy going down there and sticking some Biters? I could do with cutting some steam."

Stunted, Daryl gave a quick nod, and made his way quickly down the stairs, keeping a good distance between himself and the woman, who was still chuckling from his horrified reaction. The two opened the first gate and headed out to the farthest fence, where Mirya drew her knife with a grin and came up against the wire fencing; she offered Daryl the first Walker which they came across and he nodded, drawing his own knife and pitching it through the things eyeball.

"Not bad," Mirya complimented him, moving to the next Walker and thrusting her own blade inside it's eye through the fencing. "Go fetch me that hatchet," Mirya instructed Daryl, pointing to a weapon which Daryl remembered had been abandoned when the Governor had driven the van of Walkers into the field.

"What do I look like, your bitch or somethin'?"

"...Not in that outfit."

"Oh, _hell naw_-"

"Oh, _come on,_ i'm just teasing. Grab it, country boy, and i'll show you how you really kill a Biter."

Reluctantly Daryl turned on his heel and went to grab the weapon, Mirya chuckling beneath her breath as he went; she was starting to like this place.

**~oOo~**

Merle left the wreck room as soon as the plans were drawn up and finalized, not long after nightfall; he found himself tired and in need of a double dose of forty winks. Out of habit he decided to sleep upstairs, trecking up the metal steps and shuffling inside the cell he had slept in since he had first arrived at the prison. Once there he took the pillow from the top bunk, placed it atop his own for extra comfort on the lower bunk and lay quickly down on the bed, drawing in a thick breath and closing his eyes at last. He heard something shuffle in the cell across from him and sprang up with a jolt, cursing himself for being such a pussy at just a little noise' it had to be Laurel, of course. He stood, moving over to her cell in the darkness, thinking he might catch a glimpse of her whilst she was sleeping, before he had to deal with all her upset when she woke up tomorrow and had him up over telling the others about the group at the store; but to his surprise she was sat there in silence, legs swinging off the bed and her back to him in the dark, bent over in that little white nightdress with the birds on it.

"Cher?" He murmured softly, noting her slumped posture, "y'alright?"

Laurel didn't respond at first, but then turned her head to him and smiled a little over her shoulder.

"Oh... hey, Merle."

Merle stepped into the cell, walking around to face her and standing beside her cot. She didn't look up at him, instead closed her eyes and shook her head a little. Something was up, he could tell, and he didn't like it one bit; he sat next to her and gave her a hard stare. Still ignoring him, she murmured something under her breath in a dark tone; he lifted his fingers under her chin and tilted her face and she smacked him away sharply, swearing at him and standing up swiftly.

"What's wrong with you?" Merle said, annoyed, grabbing her wrist and pulling her forward, back onto the bed- Laurel resisted weakly, her arms pushing him away, and it was then that he heard her foot chink against glass; there was a small bottle by her feet. He picked it up, read the label and saw that it was the missing bottle of ever-clear Vodka he had acquired from the back of one of the trucks that day he had gotten paralytic. He looked up at her with a venomous glare, and she refused to catch his eye. "You a drinker now?!" He scalded her, pulling her face level with his; she pulled away hopelessly, shrieking loudly so that he hat to put his hand up over her mouth to stop her waking every one else up- she resisted, clawing at his arm, her nails digging into his flesh. "Stop it," he growled at her, "hey, that's _enough!"_

"Get off!" she managed, pushing him away at last and moving backwards on the bed, "leave me_ alone_, Merle!"

"The hell is this?!" he snapped, shaking the half-empty bottle in her face, "all that shit you spouted at me when I had a drink, suddenly you're turning to the bottle too?"

"I just... It's just one drink!" she argued, "if _you_ can do it-"

"Don't try that!" he snapped at her, dropping the bottle to the floor- it dropped with a sharp clink, not hard enough to smash but with enough force to make the sound ring through all of the cells on the upper level. Merle shuffled closer to Laurel, and she moved back in retaliation, looking away from him and shifting uncomfortably in her inhibited state. "...And don't do _that,_" he told her, reaching firmly for her face and holding her cheek in his hand- Jesus, she was a mess. He couldn't believe she'd gotten herself in a state like this- she must be really screwed up over this idea of going to the store she'd been at. Hell, he could understand why, and there were risks- but there weren't no way they'd be keeping this place if they didn't get some reinforcements. Woodbury had thirty guys at the least, and they had- what- him, Daryl, Officer Friendly, Glenn, that big black bloke they'd brought back with them today and Axel. Sure, there was Milton- and some of the women would no doubt wanna get in on the action- but there wasn't much use there, was there? They needed numbers- and if it meant having a few quick dealings with a dodgy bunch of guys then surely it was worth it... _wasn't it?_

Merle gave a thick sigh and let go of her cheek. "Let's go get you sorted out," he told her, "get some water down your neck, clean you up a little-"

"No," Laurel tried, "no, I don't want to, I wanna stay here..."

He leant closer to her, eyeing her carefully and could smell the thick alcohol on her lips. She put her head against his chin with a hollow sigh, her hand coming up to the back of his head and holding him. Her anger had faded into a hopeless sort of defeat, and she rocked back and forth where she sat.

"It's our fault," Laurel breathed, "what happened to Michonne-"

"Don't think like that," Merle rebuked her.

"We shouldn't have left her last night, we should have gone back and-"

"She's alright now, isn't she? ...She's safe."

"That's not the point, he's hurt her... bad, Merle. Carol would't even let me go and see her it's that bad..." She seemed to loose her train of thought then, and pressed her face to his. "You won't leave me, will you, Merle?" she asked in a whisper, arms around his neck now as she pressed her hair against his cheek, "you won't go. You wouldn't leave me and go..."

He looked down at her, cocooned up against him- _Jesus,_ it was hard keeping mad at her when she was cut up like this. He was pissed that she was pissed off her head, and pissed that he was finding it real hard to keep pissed with her. He wandered how she'd feel when she discovered the decision had already been made; carefully he pulled her closer to his side.

"'Course I ain't gonna leave ya," he drawled, putting his other arm over her shoulder so that she was crushed under it, "where would I go, huh?"

"...I don't know," Laurel tried through her disoriented slur, "away- back to Woodbury or off with Daryl or... or to the store."

He swallowed briskly and stroked his fingers down her back. She didn't know as of yet that they had already decided, that by tomorrow it would be done and dusted- the plans were made and they were going to this group. The possibility crossed his mind that everything could turn sour, that they might be dead by tomorrow, and that this could be the last time he ever laid eyes on her- he pulled her even closer, his grip to tight he thought it might be hurting her a little, but she didn't seem to mind. He closed his eyes and listened as she rambled on softly.

"I don't want you to go there," she whispered, "they're dangerous. You shouldn't have told them." She thumped her hand lazily against his chest. "You shouldn't have."

There was no point arguing or reasoning with her in this state. He let her lean on him, his hand on her back, and felt her lips brush against the stubble of his cheek. The the pair sat like that for a long time. He touched the bruised skin of her neck, brushing away a little of her hair, and remembered all she had been through these last few days. He thought of the hickey Greeley had forced upon her and found he could no longer deal with the closeness.

"Let's get you to bed," he told her, reaching out for the cover and pulling it back. "Come on, get in."

She put up very little resistance, and he was soon able to coax her beneath the sheet. He pulled it clean over her, brushed his thumb over her forehead and wished her goodnight before skulking back to the doorway.

"Don't," Laurel pleaded, reaching out a hand to him and sitting back up, "stay here. You said you wouldn't leave me, didn't you?"

_Jesus, girl,_ Merle thought... It's been hard enough keeping his hands off her when she was straight out sober, fully clothed and walking about the place, never mind in her jammies and out of her mind in bed; cautiously he sat on the edge of her bed, facing the opposite wall, and felt her fingers stroke down his back. She pulled on the fabric of his shirt a little and he cautiously lay down beside her, and she wrapped her arm up over him and began to murmur softly, unintelligible words he couldn't make out., soft as rose petals and more evanescent than the soft hum of the tiring prison below.

Some time passed like that and he thought she must be asleep, though her breathing hadn't descended into the heavy heave of a drunkard as of yet. It was stirring things in him, having her here, molded so close against his body, things he'd been trying _not_ to let stir for her for a long time now- her arm was rested over the front of his trousers, her hand curled onto his chest beside her head as she lay there, and even that was enough to give him a buzz. Once again he thought of how vulnerable a state she was in, how easy it would be to whittle her down, peel the layers off her with a line of well-chosen words and a few well-placed touches. He'd been playing the game long enough to know just how invaluable a tool simple manipulation could be when a woman was in a state like the one his girl was in now; it would be so easy, _so damn easy..._

_...Jesus, he wasn't gonna get much sleep tonight._

"Goodnight, Merle," she breathed eventually with a soft yawn, clutching the fabric of his vest tightly in her balled fist, her warm face rested atop it.

"'Night, darlin'."

"...And you're... you're not going, are you?"

Merle let out a thick sigh, stroking his hand over her soft hair.

"Course not, sweetheart," he told her with a breathy drawl, "'course not. Don't you worry... I'm stayin' right here."

**AN: THE LERLE I CAN'T EVEN- Ugh. I needed that Lerle. Did anyone else need that Lerle fix? I deffo needed that Lerle fix, be it sober or otherwise.**

**And so, guys, look at this! 50 chapters, 200,000 words (approx ;D) of post-apocalyptic madness! Huzzah! As 50's a pretty big number, I thought I'd lay the question to you; what's been your favorite part so far? Personally I can't decide... there's bits I love, and bits I hate _(*cough* the Bite chapter *cough*)_ Let me know, bros, and I shall endow you with such enjoyable things as you inform me of!**

**R&R if at all possible, my sweets!**

**Until next time,**

**Wiza x**


	51. Chapter 51: Proposition

**Chapter Fifty-One: **

**Proposition**

Merle was gone before Laurel awoke.

With their plans made, a small group from the prison had headed out, loaded with weapons, the bullet-proof vests from the riot gear and a stack of emergency supplies should anything go wrong; they had agreed to Daryl's suggestion that none of the women take part due to Laurel's past encounter with the group they were aiming to affiliate themselves with, despite the protests of Mirya and Sasha. Rick, Daryl, Merle, Axel, Glenn and Tyreese drove away into the evanescence of the heavy morning mist, which had descended unexpectedly over the prison in the night. Carol watched them go nervously as she pulled to the inner gate, biting down on a hangnail as the sextet vanished through the thicket of overgrown trees.

"Run it by me again," Merle drawled Rick from the passengers seat where he was giving directions to the place where he and Laurel had stopped by the river yesterday morning, "we get down there, and what, just knock on the door-?"

"No, we get you and Axel up high," Rick said from the back, "you cover us from above, turn sniper if things go ugly. The rest of us will get their attention somehow- we tell them we come in peace, run our idea by them, give them as little information as possible."

"We're nomads," Axel recalled. He scratched his top lip, where the rough stubble of his mustache was beginning to resurface. He coughed aloud and began running their pre-established story through out loud, "we've been out on the road the past few months-"

"Six," Daryl added from the back of the vehicle, where he was absently picking at the fabric of his shirt.

"Six months," Axel confirmed, "and this other group's been givin' us stick. And about the prison, we tell 'em..."

"We're just there temporarily," Tyreese said, his hands were clenched over the wheel as he followed Merle's directions, "the place is still overrun, we're living out in the cleared field, just until we've sorted our our dispute with Woodbury, then we're moving on... make sure they know we're not a threat to them."

"That's right," Rick affirmed, nodding his head as the vehicle picked up pace, "...I just hope everything goes to plan."

**~oOo~**

Laurel awoke around mid-day, her head pounding and feeling as though she was about to vomit; she sat up quickly, increasing the pain in her head, and went on the hunt for water; she managed to bundle herself downstairs and acquire a bottle of the stuff quietly, slipping out into the courtyard without anyone having noticed her go. She made her way over to the first of their getaway trucks and noticed that one of them was missing, it's contents laid out on the ground beside it's entrance, but didn't think much of it in her ill state. She searched through the bin-liners until she came across the medical supplies Axel had retrieved and found a box of paracetamol; she popped two of the pills and went and sat beneath the first stairwell, hands clutching the bottle as she sipped away at it, staying there until her head cleared up.

_What had she been thinking? Drinking, really_? She was disappointing in herself, though her upset had made it feel like a good idea at the time- to forget, wasn't that the point of drinking alone? She'd never known anyone to drink anti-socially unless it was because they wanted to mask some pain beneath the blur of alcohol, make the hours pass a little quicker... she remembered Merle being there last night, though she couldn't recall why or what he'd said to her. All she could remember was her initial drinking then feeling tired- really, _really_ tired- and, despite the influence of the heavy alcohol, still upset.

It was Carol who noticed Laurel first- she saw her from up in the guard tower where she was on watch with Maggie, and came to the foot of the steps to greet the girl.

"Sweetheart, what's up?" Carol called, and Laurel tried her best to come across as composed.

"Nothing," she smiled, "really, i'm fine."

"You don't look fine... you're pale as a sheet. Have you eaten?"

Laurel affirmed that she hadn't, and Carol insistently sent her back inside to find something. When she returned, Carol beckoned her up to the guard tower, ad the three women sat there quietly, watching the courtyard as Laurel nibbled at the chocolate bar Carol had bestowed upon her.

"Where is everybody?" Laurel asked, having noticed that the prison was looking unusually bare. Maggie and Carol exchanged a glance, and the task of revealing the answer fell to the older of the two.

"They've gone. To see that other group, back at the store."

Laurel froze mid-crunch.

"I know you're going to find this hard, Laur, but really- it's all been talked through, we've covered every eventuality-"

"They've... _gone?"_

"Yes. Just for now, they'll be back soon."

"...Is Merle with them?"

Carol froze a second then nodded, and the girl swallowed hard._ But he said..._

Laurel stood awkwardly, making her excuses and heading for the door, the pounding in her head increasing again despite the pain killers; she moved quickly down the steps and scurried off in the direction of the cell block.

**~oOo~**

"Here," Merle stated, and Tyreese pulled the car into the side road beside the river bank; the six evacuated the vehicle and followed Merle as he made his way down the stretch of road, hand covering his eyes as he looked to see if the store was in viewing distance.

"You sure this is the place?" Daryl asked his brother, and Merle replied,

"All the river looks the damn same, 'course, but it was definitely this side, it's opposite here to where we stopped... she said it was about a five, ten minute walk from the river, shouldn't take us too long to find it."

Merle was right- within ten minutes the group had tracked down the little alcove of shops, huddled just away from a row of abandoned houses. Cautiously the group approached, scoping out the area as they went.

"How'd we know which one it is?" Daryl asked as they approached the stores from the left hand side, squinting at the huddle of buildings.

"It's that one," Merle told them, pointing up at the largest- he recognized the store logo from that shirt Laurel had been wearing that first day back at the prison. "'B_ig Spot,'_" he read, and Rick signaled for them to crouch a little lower in the bushes leading up to the small concrete cut-out which served as the stop-off car park.

"We two can get up on those buildings either side," Axel proclaimed to Merle, "they're double storey, ought have fire escapes we can get up from 'round the back."

Glenn turned the corner, facing the front of the store.

"Yep... it's this one, alright."

"...Holy shit."

Three Walkers were tied up outside the shuttered entrance to the supermarket, all male, bandaged at their hands and mouths to prevent them being a danger to those inside, Merle supposed. One had a stream of black blood drenched and dried across it's plaid shirt and the other two with their necks hanging at askew, painful-looking angles; something clicked in Merle's head and his stomach tightened a little. Not only that, but across the metal shutters in red spray-paint were strawn the words;

_STAY AWAY OR YOU'LL PAY_

"Poetic," Axel noted, and the group simmered low a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

"...You sure you wanna go ahead with this?" Tyreese asked the others, noting the blatant threats encompassing the area.

"Too late to back down now," Daryl commented, nodding his head at Merle and Axel; the two noted the signal and moved around the backs of the buildings with their rifles. Both gave hand signals once they had made their way up to the tops of the structures, and Rick balled his fists, walking up to the corrugated door at the front of the building, just out of the reach of the three Walkers, murmuring beneath their gags. He rasped his ringers roughly against the metal three times and stepped back.

"What was that you said about not knocking the front door?" Daryl murmured, and Rick took another valiant step back, adjusting his protective under vest and bracing himself for whatever was to come.

"Just let me handle this," Rick told the other three men still on ground level, and the quartet stood in a uniform manner, Tyreese and Axel at the back, Daryl stood just a little further behind Rick with his crossbow at the ready. There was a series of grindings and screeches as the metal grid of the door was raised a little, and a trio of men, rifles raised, emerged from behind the grate.

The first was a fiery-headed small man wielding a crossbow which looked far too large for his slight shoulders, with a tight scowl on his neat features and a thin veil of dark red stubble across his grated jaw. He was flanked either side by two far larger men, equaling Tyreese in size, both of whom were holding weapons similar to those Axel and Merle were sporting on the roofs above them.

"Can we fucking _help_ you, dick-wads?" the smallest of the three growled, and Rick swallowed hard- this wasn't going to be as easy as it had first seemed.

"We don't want any trouble-"

"Yeah, well you're fixing to get some if you don't back the fuck up right now."

Rick raised his hands in compliance and moved back- reluctantly Daryl followed.

"Can't you pillocks _read?" _the red head spat, gesturing up to where the grate with the threat sprayed onto it had been lifted. He glanced over to Daryl, glaring him up and down before tutting beneath his breath. "...No need for you to answer that one, Bumpkin."

"What'ya just call me-?!"

"Simmer down," Rick growled across at Daryl, and he took a sharp breath in but didn't say another word. Daryl saw more men emerge behind the three in the doorway and felt his muscles tense; Jesus, this was a sizable group.

"So whose in charge around here?" Rick asked, and the men gathered shared a mutual scoff.

"_None of your damn business,_ that's who. You've got five seconds to get the hell out of here before we but a bullet in each of you and tie you up with these bastards," he continued, gesturing to the three Walkers, "five, four-"

"Wait up, Evan," the man one over from his left said, a leaner figure in a battered old military jacket with pale brown hair and a pair of crooked glasses, "let's hear them out... how many are ya?"

"Just us four, so long as we don't hear no trouble." Rick drew his gun slowly, and cast it to the ground. He kicked it away from himself a little as a gesture of peace. "We've got snipers up above... just as a precaution. Don't know the kind of folks you're gonna meet any more."

"_Snipers?"_ one of the men chortled, "bullshit. Y'all wanna prove that?"

A bullet bit the dust barely an inch from Rick's feet, and he restrained himself from looking up in Merle's direction. The red head looked down at the stud of lead, seemingly astonished that they had bee telling the truth, and nodded.

"...We're listening."

"I promise you," Rick continued, "we won't shoot unless you shoot first. Guarantee that- like I said, we don't want no trouble."

"And how we supposed to trust a word you're sayin'?"

"Well... you don't have much of a choice. It's take us on face value or-"

"Looks to me like we've got plenty of choice, hot shot," the red head called out, raising his bow swiftly.

"Y'all wanna test that theory?" Daryl spat at him, raising his own crossbow in retaliation.

"Put your toy bow down, mountain boy, or I'll set one of these silvers right through that pretty little head of yours quick as you can say_ 'inbred son of a bitch-'_"

"That's enough, Ev," said a thick voice; a tall, wide man stepped out through the back of the group. His size made it difficult to distinguish whether all of his bulk could be attributed to hard work or whether some form of steroids had been involved; he looked to be in his mid to late thirty's with cropped black hair that was receding at the peaks of his hairline, a short, carved smile and a broad nose which stood as the predominant feature of his face. He was surprisingly light on his feet, and moved with a slow, drawn-out stance, one hand clutching proudly to the lapel of his old school biker jacket; it was clear to every one present that this man was the leader. The others parted for him like God's ocean and he stood in his leathers, sharp eyes darting about the four men before setting on Rick.

"And who might you be?" He asked in a surprisingly light tone, the smile still perched graciously across his callous features.

"I'm Morgan," Rick lied to the man uneasily, the first name that came into his head; he thought of his friend, locked up in his self-built fortress, obsessed with his mission to _'clear'_ the plague.

"Nice to make your acquaintance, Morgan," the man smirked, taking a step forward out of the protection of his group and extending his hand to be shaken,

"Call me Negan."

**_AN: MOTHER. FUCKING. NEGAN._**

**_And then everyone in the 'Imprisoned' audience shot Wiza and that was the end of that._**

**_Those of you who have read the comics are probably doing the shit-my-pants dace right about now- if you haven't you're probably wandering why Negan was so crucial as to get his name underlined... do not fear, my pretties... all will be revealed in time. _****_Obviously he's my own take on the character- I've tried to make him a little more stylized than his comic book counterpart, and he's had his mouth washed out with all kinds of soap... seriously, in the comics this guy can't get through half a sentence without using the F word a good few times. But anyway... i'll leave all you graphic novel readers to cry in corners now. Sorry this one was so short, by the way- next chapter is like six bazillion words long so it should make up for it XD Thank you so much for all those lovely reviews last chapter, guys! I squeed, I'm not ashamed to admit it. _**

**_R&R, folks! x_**


	52. Chapter 52: Alliance

**Chapter Fifty-Two:**

**Alliance**

"...Laur?" Beth called, trailing out of the cell block after watching her friend leave there some minutes ago; Laurel was nowhere in sight, and it took Beth quite some time to establish her position; she was opening the inner gate, a crowbar in her hand, and looked to be heading out. A little panicked Beth advanced upon her.

"Hey, where are you going?" she called, concerned, picking up her pace and following after her; Laurel glanced quickly over her shoulder and said,

"I'm going to kill a Walker."

"...Why?" Beth asked, "there's hardly any out there, Daryl and Mirya cleared up loads yesterday- Laurel, slow down!"

"I'm alright," Laurel said, "I just... I've never done it before, not properly. Using a gun isn't the same... it can't be. I need to do it."

"You shouldn't be out here without a weapon," Beth rebuked her, pulling her own gun as a precaution, "and you haven't got your bullet vest-"

"The vests are gone, I checked. They've taken them with them... out to the store."

Beth breathed in sharply- she knew how opposed her friend was to introducing this other group. "Well at least let me come with you," Beth offered, "I've done it a good few times, it's easy once you get the hang of it-"

"No," Laurel demanded uneasily, trudging across the grass, "...no. I want to do it... just me."

She took another stride forwards, the crowbar tight in her fist, and Beth watched her as she advanced upon the fence.

**~oOo~**

_"Nice to make your acquaintance, Morgan," the man smirked, taking a step forward out of the protection of his group and extending his hand to be shaken,_

_"Call me Negan."_

Rick gave a small nod and swallowed back his hesitation, easing half a step forward to meet the mans grip- as he did so, a flurry of weapons were risen in his direction, so that he stood back quickly in surprise.

"Easy, boys," Negan mused, "Morgan here's not going to be fool enough to try anything now, is he? Not when there's thirty of us and only four- pardoning their snipers- guys verses our thirty. Well, thirty-ish."

Negan stepped to meet Rick and up-took the task of shaking the other mans hand- Rick met Negan's grip with the same tight clench imposed upon himself, and Negan seemed impressed.

"So... what is it we can do for you fellas?"

"We have a proposition for you," Rick began, but was interrupted once more by the hot headed ginger.

"Any of you so much as fucking move, there's a bolt straight through your head," Evan growled from behind his leader, clearly uncomfortable with these new arrivals.

"Same for you, dumbass," Daryl murmured over the length of his own bow.

"Don't try anything, Jerk off," Evan spat back at him.

"Come on, Ev," their leader drawled, smiling steadily at Rick, "I'm sure our friends here wouldn't try anything. And what's with all the name-calling? This is an... _opportunity,_ not a playground."

Rick stared hard at the man- he didn't trust him, that was for sure. This group were a hazard, their last resort, and Rick hated that it had come down to negotiating with such men. The leader of the large group knelt down before Rick's feet- he put his fingers to the dusty ground, tracing the path where the bullet shot by Merle had landed. He found the stud of silver, embedded deep in the baked ground, and looked up at Rick.

"This bullet," he said, "hit the ground from the right. That means the trajectory would be..."

The man pointed up to the roof in the direction where the bullet had entered the ground; opposite to where Axel now knelt.

Slowly, Merle stood from his hidden position on the rooftop, arms raised in the air and the shotgun held in his hand.

"You got me."

"Nice addition," the group's leader commented as he saw the prosthetic, nodding up at Merle.

"Thanks," Merle acknowledged with a cold smirk. The leader looked back to Rick.

"You get your boys down off the roofs," he advised. "Come inside- I'd like to hear this proposition of yours, somewhere a little less exposed. We've got food, water- better than water, we've got beer. More guys are always welcome, if a place to stay is what you're after."

"That's not why we're here," Rick told him, as the larger man began walking back towards the supermarket.

"Regardless," he called back over his shoulder, "come on in. Looks like we've got a lot to discuss."

Cautiously, Rick nodded up to Axel and Merle; the two began there decent down the buildings and met with Daryl, Tyreese, Glenn and Rick at the bottom. Uncertainly Rick began his trek to the door, and as he reached it, the light-haired man with the glasses stopped him.

"Guys, you can't bring those guns in here, nor that crossbow-"

"Let the men have their weapons, Ben," Negan dismissed from inside the building, "do they look like the type stupid enough to shoot up 30 guys? Honestly, boys, relax a little... we have guests, after all."

Ben stepped aside cautiously, and the prison group made their way uneasily towards the habitated store- Axel gave Ben an exuberant grin of gregarious enthusiasm as he passed, nervously shouldering the rifle and edging inside the shop, the rest of the prison group at his heels.

**~oOo~**

Laurel ran her forefinger across the splinter of metal which eased the point of the weapon in her hand and began pacing backwards and forwards along the outer fence, glancing up into the dead, hungry faces of the hissing Walkers the other side. She paused in front of one such Walker, which had once been a dark-haired boy, perhaps a little older than herself, but it was difficult to tell after so many months of decay; they were starting to disintegrate, some of the older Walkers, and Laurel thought that perhaps by winter some of them might be so wasted in their muscle and skin capacity that they might become immobile. Winter would be good, she decided. She had heard from her guidebook before the disease had struck that snow often accumulated in the mountainous regions during the coldest weeks, and pandemics of freeze rain were common in the colder months; this would restrict the movement of the Walkers for certain, and they would be alot less frequent around the gates at that time... should they still be here, of course.

She swallowed back that thought and looked back at the young Walker, his eyes bloodshot to a dirty shade of cinnamon, the skin of his face mottled to the left hand side. He was taller than her, and something about him scared her, though it wasn't his dead state- she had grown used to the sight of these poor yet terrifying creatures now, and felt little more than sympathy when was safe behind the fencing. Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, she moved further up the sparse line of dead creatures, until she stopped before one who struck her in a way none of the others had; a woman of an indeterminable age, less rotten than some of the others, with blonde hair turned the colour of sludge by dirt and dead matter, and one clouded grey eye parallel to a yellowish brown lens with a solid black pinprick pupil. Fingers tensing around the crowbar, it's straight edge facing away from her, Laurel brought the weapon up to the eye-level of the Walker as she yapped and growled from behind the fence; Laurel closed her eyes as the creature bit at the wire and, with a sharp shove, stabbed the weapon through the mangled eye socket of the beast and through into it's brain, feeling the metal grind against the opposing side of her skull- Laurel felt her stomach lurch and released the crowbar, turning to the grass and vomiting; she shuddered, pulling herself upright and spitting out onto the grass; she turned back to the now inanimate Walker, brain matter leaking from the wound to her face, stuck against the wiring due to the rafter in her eye. Reluctantly she pulled the bloodied weapon from the Walkers still form and watched as the creature collapsed to the ground, dropping the crowbar to the grass. She sat beside it with a shuddering breath, legs crossed and her head in her hands facing away from the line of deformed humans, tears bleeding into her eyes.

**~oOo~**

"So," Negan drawled, having settled with the two groups and opened a round of beers, "let's have your names again."

Rick glanced around the group- Laurel was right about their numbers. At least thirty men, all looking reasonably well-fed, their weapons set aside now and gathered about to hear what Rick and the others had to offer. "Morgan," he repeated, pointing to himself then to Tyreese, "this is Duane."

"We call him Lefty," Glenn interrupted, as Rick gestured to Merle. There was a scoff of laughter amongst the store group, and Merle looked over slowly at Glenn, raising his eyes with a cold smirk.

"Well, some nicknames stick, I guess," Merle drawled, allowing the taunt to pass over his head.

"So, Lefty," one of the men asked- Merle picked up on the fact that it was his persona name being used, and nodded in the direction of the asker. "What happened to your hand?"

"Walker got it," Merle lied quickly- they didn't want to give away any information they didn't need to, they'd established that quite clearly. "Morgan here cut it off for me." Rick nodded at Merle, who looked at him with a smirk on his face.

"_'Walker?'_" Negan asked, "that what you people call them?" Glenn nodded, and Negan smiled. "Round here they're Chompers."

"That must of sucked major balls, though," someone related, referring to the loss of Merle's hand. Merle shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

"It weren't no tea party, but I've been through worse."

Negan smiled at the man. "I like you," he drawled, "you're the toughest son of a bitch I've met in a long time."

"Please, you're makin' me blush," Merle taunted, pointing over to Glenn with his bayonet to move the conversation forwards, "this wonky-eyed kid here is Dick."

"...I prefer Richard," Glenn retorted, realizing that this was his subtle way of getting back over the 'lefty' thing, eyes on Merle in a disjointed fashion.

"So long as you don't prefer dick," one of the men laughed, "we don't want no faggots in here, this ain't some sort of fairy fest."

"I hear that," someone agreed, raising their beer.

"...What about you?" Negan asked Daryl eventually, and Daryl searched for a split second in his head, saying the first name that appeared there.

"Randall."

Negan nodded and continued, "I think we had a Randall at one point- Randall Culver, wasn't it?"

A couple of the other guys nodded, and Spencer affirmed, "skinny little kid, used to run his mouth a lot, never knew how to shut up."

Rick, Glenn and Daryl all froze, though tried to keep face; the connection had clicked immediately. _Surely this couldn't be the same group they'd encountered back at the farm?_

"…What happened to him?" Rick asked, trying to remain stoic in his question, though there were a thousand alarm bells ringing in his head.

"Got killed by drifters," Spencer huffed, "I was there. Don't know who they were, but the bastards killed, like, four of our guys on a run we were on- Dave, Tony, Sean, Randall. They were all good guys."

_Good guys,_ Daryl recited in his head, feeling physically sick; he knew what this group had done, what they were capable of- he remembered the story Randall had told him back on the farm when he'd been being interrogated, of how they'd raped two girls while their daddy was right there with them, taken their supplies and left them out on the side of the road like they were nothing more than a pit stop. Daryl looked back up at the faces of the men around them, an anger boiling in his blood which he tried to control; quickly he remembered that there had been women and children in Randall's group. He couldn't see any here, but it was impossible that this was some other group who had just happened to have a Randall amongst their ranks who disappeared at the hands of other survivors; too much of a coincidence to be plausible. Sharply Daryl asked,

"You not got any women?"

"Slow down there, sonny boy," Negan laughed, "I know you probably ain't had the chance to dip the quill in a while, but you've only been here five minutes." As the mirth died down between the group, Negan's face turned more serious. "But honestly," he continued, "...we had a big group- us, women, kiddies. Things happened, Chompers got in our camp, people were lost- and now it's just us guys."

"Sorry about that," Tyreese nodded sadly, being one of only two members in the prison camp who didn't know the identity of this group, the connection they shared. Merle had picked up on some acute change in Daryl's disposition, and though he didn't understand what it was or why it had occurred, he knew they ought to be weary of this group of men.

"Everyone's lost this past year, or however damn long it's been," Charlie said, picking at his teeth before shining his watch on the cuff of his shirt, "it's a cold dead world now. How about you guys? You everyone in you're group?"

"No," Rick told him straight. "We lost everyone. Just us left."

"How long you been like that?"

"Gotta be six, seven months now."

Daryl noted how smoothly the lies flowed from his friend's lips, and tried to remember their cover story in as much detail as possible as it was crafted.

"You lose them to the Chompers?"

Rick nodded. "We were set up on a little farm, got run over- only we got out. We've been living as nomads ever since- safer that way, we figured. Quieter."

"Never thought we'd have to worry about other living people on top of all the shit caused by the dead walking around... lucky for us the thing with Randall and the others was one-time. Ain't often you come across other people no more. When we found this place it had just been overrun... or abandoned, I suppose."

_Lying bastard,_ Merle thought, but nodded along with the man's bullshit all the same.

"You folks ever had any problems with other groups?" Negan wondered aloud, and Rick bowed his head.

"Actually, that's what we came to you for... we've got a problem," Rick tried in a slow drawl, putting his fingers together habitually.

Negan raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "Do go on."

"'Nother group," Daryl contributed, "they've been givin' us stick for weeks now."

"That's a shame," Negan riled with mock sympathy, "what kind of stick?"

"Like I said, we're not stationary," Rick lied, "we've been livin' nomadically- they've been following us around, trying to pick us off one by one."

"Got a couple of our boys," Axel added.

"They've got supplies," Tyreese told the others, "a big camp, set up like a community- we've scoped it out a couple of times. Place is secure, safe. They've got food, water, houses-"

"-Women," Merle interrupted. Rick glanced at him darkly.

"And they've got numbers, which is where our dilemma lies; we figured, you scratch our back, we'll scratch yours," Rick told Negan. "We need these guys gone, and quickly. If you help us do it, you can have their camp, their supplies."

"...What kind of numbers they got?"

"Around thirty who know their way around a weapon," Merle informed them, "women and kiddies on top of that."

Negan considered a moment. "And how do we know you're boys won't just shoot the deal, turn on us and take our stuff, theirs as well- if this group even exist? Have their little haven for yourselves?"

"You don't," Rick offered with blunt honesty, "I can only give you my word. We ain't the type to fall back on our word, and I assure you, this place they've got is worth it."

"...Where is this place?" the man who had let them through the door asked, his hand easing over the scar on his arm. "Near here?"

"Not too far," Axel assured him, "half an hour at most-"

"What they like?"

"Dangerous," Glenn said, and Merle decided to bulk up their story.

"They attacked a couple of camps- old people's home, group of soldiers that were set up not far from their town-"

Ben asked the name of the base with a tight expression, and Merle remembered the camp they had attacked back when he had been the Governor's right-had man; he gave the name and Ben shook his head a little.

"That was my base," he said. "I'd gone out on a supply run with a couple of other guys- we got back, they were dead. The bastards had taken all our supplies, our trucks- lost my friends on the way to Fort Benning, came across the Survivors when I was at deaths door- these guys took me in."

"_The Saviors?'_" Rick questioned, and Negan gave a little smile.

"That's just what we call ourselves, just a bit of fun," Negan explained. The two groups shared an awkward pause before Charlie called attention to himself with an uneasy "So..." He was a small, lean man with quick inquisitive eyes and an array of short, uneven facial hair. His hands were large and thickly veined despite his skinny frame, and he had an overall look of being somewhat unstable, though his lean-lipped smile sat well on his thin face. He wore a thick watch on his angular wrist which he glanced at continually, though it's face didn't tick- it was polished to perfection, glinting heavily in the glare of the dull strobe lighting, and he fingered it habitually as he attempted to justify his speech. "What about those of 'em who can't fight, these people from this town? The kiddies, the oldies?" You want us to what- attack their home? _Kill_ them?"

"No one said that," Glenn defended, "we'll take them under our wing, find somewhere safe. You guys get their walled town and half their supplies, we get to sleep soundly at night- seems like a fair deal to me."

Negan furrowed his brow. "You guys are willing to take a group- a _big _group, by the sounds of it- out on the road with you?"

"...We've got our eyes on a place," Rick told them, "it's overrun at the moment, but we figured we might be able to clear it out, set up our own community."

"What sort of a place?" asked Spencer.

"...I'd rather not say."

Negan nodded respectfully, allowing Rick's discretion. Instead, the group began a deeper discussion into the matter at hand, Daryl kneeling to the ground to describe Woodbury's layout. Rick was surprised at how co-operative Negan's group were- within the hour plans were made, disputes were settled and the two groups had decided a destination to meet; with no time to waste, Negan's group were happy enough to go ahead with the plans the next day; it had been decided they would attack at mid day, and would be as lenient as possible with the residents of Woodbury.

Rick shook Negan's hand again, giving him a hint of a faux smile. "Well if that's everything-"

"Oh, you've gotta meet my pride and joy 'fore you go," Negan offered, calling back to one of the younger boys, Charlie, "go and fetch Lucille for me."

"Thought you said you didn't have any women," Merle mused and Negan replied with a grin,

"No, no, Lucille ain't no woman- she's a damn sight better than that... check this out."

Charlie came back carrying a baseball bat, long with a stubby round head and a solid body. Wrapped around its head was a coil of barbed wire.

"Gorgeous, ain't she?" Negan smiled, stroking one of the barbs, "bashed in a good few heads with this baby- wanna get a closer look?"

"Sure," Glenn said, and Negan handed over the bat.

"Ain't she just a beauty," Negan chimed, "better than using a gun, that's for sure." Hell of a lot quieter, and hell of a lot more fun."

"She's great," Glenn smiled, handing the thing back to the man.

A Walker emerged from the trees to the left as the prison group made their way out of the store; with a sudden gush of wind, two crossbow bolts hit the beast in the skull, one from either direction. Daryl and the other bow-wielder exchanged a quick, dark glance.

"Fuck you," Evan murmured, and Daryl spat on the ground before his feet.

"Why have you got Walkers tied up?" Glenn asked, and Negan scoffed mirthfully.

"Aww, those ain't no Chompers- or _Walkers,_ like you fellas say- these are our pets! Say hello to Tom, Dick and Harry. They're our little Chomper deterrents, keep the others away, mask the smell. Usually keep other folks away, too, but clearly you guys have more spine than to be put off by a few bandaged-up nibblers."

Merle noted again the bullet hole in the chest of the one Walker, the necks of the other two appeared to be broken, their mouths tied with fabric gags to stop their teeth being a threat and their hands bandaged to stop them being capable of grabbing- he shoved past them quickly, shaking his head, and opened up the door of the vehicle, beckoning the others over.

"See you fellas tomorrow at noon, then," Negan affirmed, and Rick nodded, heading after the others to their truck. "Have a safe journey home." Negan kept his smile up, waving briefly as the group piled securely into the truck, Tyreese revving the engine- he left the smile across his visage as Rick's group vanished back down the road. He lowered his hand, the smile wavering slightly, and turned to Spencer, stood by his side.

"Follow them."

**AN: NEGANS GROUP IS RANDALLS GROUP EVERYTHINGS CONNECTED GOD HELP US**

** ugh... Negan. GTFO.**

******I must make special and most humble apologies to Madame Red, as I promised her I would upload yesterday but then the site crashed did anyone else experience that?**

**R&R for more, guys!**


	53. Chapter 53: Propos

_**AN: IN THEWORDS OF MACKRELMURRE:**_

_**'WHUT WHUT WHUT WHUT'**_

_**500 REVIEWS?!**_

_**MARRY MEH!**_

**Chapter Fifty-Three:**

**Propos**

"She just won't come inside," Beth informed Carol, her arms folded across her chest as the two women stood beside the inner gate, watching Laurel. "She said she just wanted to try killing one, but I came out earlier and she was just sat on the floor with the crowbar in her hands- I tried to convince her to come in, but she kept saying she was alright, that she'd be inside in a minute or so- I came back out to check on her just, and she was doing this. I'm worried about her."

She had been out there over an hour now, up on her feet at this point and wielding the crowbar she had acquired, moving from Walker to Walker as she ended their existence with the metal rod through their eye. Dead blood was trickling over her hands from the repetitive action, and as each Walker moved forwards, she plunged the weapon over and over, destroying the right eye of each of the gargling creatures. There was a small pile forming in the place where she had stationed herself, so she moved a little further up the fencing, and the starving beasts followed her. Calmly Laurel began the process again, resting a moment and flexing her muscles before continuing her vendetta.

"I think..." Carol started uncertainly, wrapping her arm around Beth's shoulder- this reminded her of Jim, the way he'd spent that entire afternoon in the blistering sun digging countless holes. "I think this might be her way of coping. Run up to the guard tower, tell Sasha to keep an eye on her- we'll give her a little longer to do whatever it is she's gotta do- half an hour, say, then I'll go and talk to her. I think she might need this... whatever_ 'this'_ is."

Beth nodded, taking the steps up the guard tower to meet with Sasha. Carol took another glance at the girl by the outer fence, shaking her head with uncertainty before cracking the door to the cell block back open.

**~oOo~**

"They're Randall's group."

Those were the first words spoken once the team from the prison were a safe distance from the Savior's store. Axel, Tyreese and Merle questioned briskly what they were talking about, and Daryl was the one to speak up, a fire in his dark blood.

"You remember me tellin' you about that sorry little bitch back on the farm, the one whose group raped those girls?" Daryl growled to Merle, polishing one of his bolts on his shirt, "it's them. They're the fucking group."

"Shit... how'd you know?"

"Well they were all talking about Randall, weren't they? We're the ones who killed them... Jesus," Glenn breathed. He explained the situation with Randall in full to Tyreese, Axel and Merle, and concluded, "this- this was a big mistake, we should just forget it all. We won't turn up at the silos tomorrow, we'll go to Woodbury alone-"

"No," Rick said, "...no, we've got to see this through. We do this tomorrow, then we cut all ties. It's gonna be fine- they'll never know we were the ones who took out their four guys, and we'll never have to see them again. We'll be fine." He lowered his head to his hand and breathed, "one more thing... about them being Randall's group... we keep that to ourselves, don't you think?"

Everyone in the car agreed that this was a good idea; the rest of the journey was taken in near silence; when the group arrived outside the prison gates, Tyreese was the first one to notice Laurel. He pointed her out to the others with a worried visage; Merle looked out to her, saw the crowbar stiff in her grip and the blood coating her forearms, the pile-up of Walkers outside the fence and swore beneath his breath- he volunteered to get out and unwire the orange fence ties, not having to kill even one Walker as he went, as the whole crowd of them were now fighting for Laurel's attention as she abruptly ended each of their lives. Merle passed through the gate and re-wired it once the truck had passed through, then gestured for the car to wait a moment while he walked briskly to Laurel.

"What in the hell are you doin'?" He barked in a hushed tone as he approached, and it was only now that she seemed to notice him at all- her warm wet fingers clenched tighter around the weapon in her hand as though she knew what was coming, and less than a moment later he had snatched it from her forcefully, throwing the drenched crow bar to the ground.

"Get in the car," he ordered, trying not to look at her sleep-hollowed features or the red flare running up and down her forearms. She didn't resist, and he walked with his hand balled into a fist on the fabric of her plain shirt, leading her to the car and sandwiching her quickly into the back seat between himself and Daryl. As Tyreese rolled the car forwards, Axel attempted to diffuse the broad silence by asking Laurel if she was alright; Merle replied for her with a growl of _'she's fine,'_ pulling her from the car as soon as the vehicle stopped inside the inner gate. Laurel let herself be dragged along limply, not saying a word in protest, and Daryl sensed his brother's distain.

"Merle, just leave her be, she weren't doin' no harm-"

"Keep out of it, Darlena... we're gonna have a little talk," Merle growled back to his brother, pulling Laurel along and into the abandoned shower block in C where a meager supply of dirty water still remained.

"Get that shit off your arms," he ordered as he pulled her up to the ceramic sink, arms bent at her elbows and her head hung low. "What the hell were you doin' out there? look at you, you're a damn mess, kid... why would you wanna start hackin' up Walkers, you think you're Rambo now or somethin'-?!"

"Don't shout at me!" Laurel demanded, "I wasn't doing anything wrong-"

"Just clean yourself up," Merle breathed, "honestly, girl, look at ya- drippin' in geek blood, why the hell-?!"

"What does it matter why?" Laurel replied, dunking her arms into the stagnant liquid and rubbing the thick burgundy matter from underneath her fingernails, "It's none of your business what I do-"

"It's a hella lot of my business, and don't you forget it," Merle growled, "you still half cut or what-?"

"I'm not drunk," Laurel told him, "I'm fine, I just-"

"Then what in the hell was all that? What, you just suddenly felt like smashin' in some brains?"

"Well I had to do _something_ productive while you and the others were off fraternizing with a bunch of rapists and murderers... I'm surprised you managed to come back alive at all. How did it go, your little mission? Did you get what you wanted-?!"

"Don't be such a bitch," Merle growled at her, being sure she had a moment to absorb the cuss, "we went out there to help this fucking place, not to stir any trouble or spite ya- you ain't the compass point this world revolves on, kid. Without a little help we're all dead, you too blind to see that-?"

"Not help from _them!"_

"Then help from who, Santa Claus?! You know anyone else who's willin' to help our asses?! ...They're alright," Merle tried to reassure her, "seem like pretty decent guys-"

"Decent?!"

"Yeah, decent! Look, we're doin' it tomorrow, by tomorrow night this will all be over-"

"We could all be dead by tomorrow night-!"

"We ain't gonna be dead cuz we're gonna fix this up, and then you'll see how all this bullshit whining you keep puttin' on me has been for fuck all."

"You know what?" Laurel breathed, astounded by it all, "_fine._ I'll just sit back like the good little subservient girl you all want me to be and let you big strong men handle everything." She pulled open the door to the cell block and breathed, "but when this all goes pear shaped, which it will... don't say I didn't warn you.

Laurel vanished out of the desiccated shower block and lurched open the C block door, slamming them to as she disappeared.

"You win, Merle."

**~oOo~**

Less than an hour later the group had gathered to work through the plans for tomorrow; everything had gone relatively smoothly until they had got on to the subject of who would be going on their mission.

"No," Laurel said when Rick proclaimed that all the women would have to stay due to Negan's group thinking they were non-existent, "we can't just stay here- think about it, those women and children, the elderly, anyone who doesn't or can't fight- you're just gonna go in there, shoot their husbands and their brothers and their sons and expect cooperation?"

"That's not what we're going in to do- minimal casualties, they'll be safe."

"That's not the point," Laurel continued. She looked quickly over to Rick. "The only reason I decided to trust you up on that highway was because you had Michonne with you, and Maggie- since this all happened, it's just hard to trust men anymore, do you see that? The things that have happened- that are _still_ happening... I don't think they'll feel safe. I know I wouldn't, if I was in that position. They're gonna be scared enough as it is..."

Mirya nodded, deciding to just put it out on the table, make it bullet clear what the point was. "They don't need the fear of rape hanging over their heads as well."

"Laurel's right," Carol affirmed, "they will be more co-operative if they see we've got women at our camp. That's just the way it is."

"Just the way it is," Sasha confirmed.

The men shook their heads, feeling outnumbered.

"We've told Negan's lot we've got no women," Axel told them, "how are we gonna explain that away if suddenly you bunch turn up and start blowin' off heads and huntin' down Woodbury soldiers?"

"Then we'll tuck our hair under our hats and... I dunno, strap down our boobs!" Mirya yelled, "If you think any of us are gonna just sit back here, you've got another thing coming-"

"Alright, _Mulan,_ calm your ass," Daryl rebuked her, Alvi cupped in his arms, "we ain't gonna need no more help- just think, this Negan's got thirty boys, we've got our lot-"

"Crowd control," Carol inputted, "there's no way you can _'filter'_ through Woodbury's people with just the six of you. You're gonna need all the help you can get."

"...Maybe one or two of you can come in once we've got everything under control," Glenn suggested, and Maggie piped up,

"Snipers... a couple of us will come in as snipers. That way we keep out of sight, and we can just wait outside away from this Negan's group. That way you've all got extra protection, and we can make our way in once things are underhand."

It was agreed that this could work, and Sasha, Mirya, Carol and Maggie, being the most experienced with firearms, would be the ones to accompany the men as snipers. The other women, still in protest at being useless, were designated the role of waiting out in preparation for dealing with any injuries that might be suffered. Once the plans were in place, Daryl and Carol agreed to go out on watch- Daryl handed Alvi over to Axel- the child, horrified at being separated from Daryl, sizzled a hot cry- Daryl reached back over to him and cupped him in his arms, and the boy soon simmered into happy silence.

"You do have a knack for that," Carol told him, and he shrugged a little smile. The two headed out to the guard tower, Alvi accompanying them.

"I need you to be careful tomorrow," she warned him, "don't do anything stupid... I know what you're like, always wanting to play hero, but-"

"I'll be fine," Daryl reassured her softly, the smile still on his face as he cradled the happy child. "Don't worry... we're all gonna be alright."

"...I hope so, Daryl," Carol breathed carefully, brushing her hand delicately against his back, "I hope so."

**~oOo~**

Merle walked through down into the library as noon hitched to night- hell, with the day they were gonna have tomorrow, he could do with a little relaxation; at first he had headed out to the loaded trucks with the aim of seeking out a couple of bottles of beer, but then remembered the negative experiences he had had with it in the last few days and resigned himself to more conventional recreation. As he pulled open the library door he saw a head turn from behind the first shelf; Laurel looked away quickly and shuffled further down the isle. He shuffled down the opposing isle, standing opposite her and peering at her through the slit in the shelf. She kept her eyes lowered, and eventually he spoke.

"I know you're pissed at me."

There was a huff from Laurel's side, and she pulled out the book shielding their faces from one another. She struggled a moment with whether or not to reply, but eventually gave in.

"I'm not pissed at you... I'm pissed at myself," Laurel breathed, walking out from the isle with the book she had grabbed in her hand, moving up to the library bench and sitting, pulling her legs up to her chest. "I shouldn't have had that drink, and I..." she trailed off, and it was quite clear that she had no intention of continuing her sentence.

"...And what?" Merle persisted, sitting down beside her, but she remained reluctant.

"I... I should have stood up for myself," she went on firmly, her eyes still ahead. "In Woodbury, I let them treat me like a rag-doll."

"Don't say that," he intruded, "what were you gonna do, beat the shit out of someone twice the size of ya?"

"He wasn't twice the size of me," Laurel argued, "and even if he was, that's not the point- I should have fought harder, shouldn't have let him do what he did-"

"When you say_ 'he',_ you mean that Greeley kid, right?"

Laurel nodded. "Yeah. Greeley."

"...And what did he do?" Merle asked, his steel eyes narrowing on her... that was something that had been scraping the back of his mind since they had returned. She lowered her eyes and murmured her reply.

"They- him and the other kid, Connor- pinned me to the table, and he said some things, then he cut my one leg- I kicked him and he flipped, started beating me up. Connor left because he was freaked or something and Greeley cut my other leg, beat on me some more... got his hand up my dress. Then he went. I know it doesn't sound like much, but... It was horrible," Laurel left a long pause then, hearing Merle sigh. "You don't get it, what it's like to think someone might... do that to you. That's something women have to think about every day... every day. Even before the Walkers-_ Don't go out in so-and-so a place after dark, don't wear slutty clothes..._ guys never had to think about any of that, did they? ...Girls never should have had to. We shouldn't have been teaching our girls_ 'don't wear revealing clothes', 'don't go out after dark', 'don't do this or that...'_ we should have been teaching guys not to rape. Maybe then all this world wouldn't have been so bad as it is now."

She sensed herself going off on a tangent and pulled back into the room- Merle grabbed her arm and drew her closer, her neck falling against his shoulder. He wound a finger through a tress of her yellow hair, spun like sugar and the shade of burnt caramel.

"I always end up like this," she breathed, "leaning back on you."

"Yeah, well... lean a little closer, baby doll."

He tilted her face and planted a quick kiss against her lips, which she returned with a hint of reluctance at first- he grazed his lips to hers again and wondered if his had been the first there; he guessed they hadn't... young girl like her, smile like that, blue-eyed blondie with a rack that screamed Jail-bait to any guy with half a brain 'twixt his ears- hell, there had probably been a line of kids who wouldn't have minded a grab, whether or not they'd had the balls to try it was a different matter. He thought of how odd she could be in just about everything, the mild eccentricity she had about her and reasoned that she probably wasn't the kind of girl you'd want your friends knowing you had the hots for; there was a slight unease to her, an overpowering something like that would be a threat to most teenage boys, he reckoned. But to him, knowing her the way she was now, well, that was part of what he liked about her. For him that quiet buzz she had was fine, he could deal with it straight- he liked it. He supposed there had been a sneaky kiss behind the bike sheds at school or perhaps a brief holiday romance, but the caution in her when he touched her, the hovering tenseness that danced in the air whenever their lips met suggested she was new to this game, and he could tell that lips-on-lips was probably the furthest she'd gone; he didn't need to ask her to know that she hadn't even come close to sex. Anything bodily, even his hand over her, was enough to make her muscles tense and cut short anything he'd even thought of starting.

She was her own little enigma, that special brand of an almost matured innocence he hadn't come across in many people; no one else he could think of, in fact. There was an exuberance to her, an odd theatricality in almost everything she did, worn away temporarily during and after the events in Woodbury that seemed out of place yet fitted her perfectly. Merle could imagine her no other way than the sort of clumsy functionality she had, could not imagine her without that spike in her voice, that spark flickering in her eyes whenever she spoke about something she passionately and honestly believed in, and that lost daydreamer look she held sometimes, not to mention the way she'd exaggerate her little movements when she was upbeat, how she'd sweep through the cells with a dancing swish, lighting the room for a second like a lamp before moving onwards. He hated her upset, because not only did she loose that spark but it dampened him- and, of course, he felt like a useless sack because 99.9% of the time he was the reason she was down in the first place.

Footsteps squeaked around the corner and the two broke away from each other, startled- face burning, Laurel looked up to see Beth stood at the opposing end of the corridor, frozen in place.

"Oh," she said, her voice coming up high, Judith cradled in her arms, "uh, sorry... just looking for one of the spare baby bottles, Carol was feeding Alvi up here earlier and... oh, here is is... um... bye."

Before Laurel could say another word, Beth was gone in a flurry, clearly as embarrassed as she was- Merle laughed once the tension had evaporated a little, and Laurel smacked him in the chest with a half-smile.

"That's not funny," she scalded him, "oh, God, that was _awful, _Beth's gonna think_-"_

"Who cares what your mute little pal thinks? What, you embarrassed?" he laughed, pulling her back to his side and brushing his lips against his cheek. She gave a little nervous, exasperated giggle and cried,

"I'm _mortified._ I don't want people thinking-"

"What? That you got the hots for an old son of a bitch like me?"

"Who ever said I've got the hots for you?" she smirked, the flush rising in her cheeks again.

"Oh, I suppose it's all in my head," Merle drawled, wrapping his arm over her and flexing the muscle there so that she felt about as small as a sparrow, "yeah, I've just been imaginin' all the times I've noticed that little look you have when you think nobody's watchin'-"

"I do not have a _'look'_," Laurel rebuked him, and he brushed his knuckles over the top of her head, pressing a little too hard so that she cringed under him.

"Yeah you do, sugar."

She smiled then, her head against his shoulder. He watched as her gentle fingers touched his fingertips, numbed by years of hard labor and substance abuse, and kissed the side of her face again, a little lower against her jaw. She shivered a tiny bit and he smirked.

"...Be careful tomorrow."

"I always am."

Laurel smiled a little, the sadness creeping back onto her face.

"Don't you lie to me, Merle Dixon," Laurel smirked and pinged the fabric against his knee sharply. "Don't you do anything stupid," she warned him seriously, feeling the warmth of his breath against her jaw, "I know what you're like..."

"Like I'd do somethin' like that, Cher."

"Stay safe... for me. Promise me you will."

Merle hooked his arm around the top of her waist and squeezed her side.

"I promise."

**AN: Aww****. I enjoy Lerle.**

**But anyway... you know what? I realized today just who Greeley reminds me of... he reminds me of Red-Mist/ the MoFo from 'Kick Ass', but the comic book version, not the movie one. Ugh. Yack.**

******I apologize to everyone for not replying to your reviews on the last chapter, please don't hate me. I will be sure to do so this chapter- and thanks to the couple off people who sent reviews via PM, they were very much appreciated. All my messages in my inbox are outstanding atm, so i'll be sure to reply to everyone and everything tomorrow. Once again, I'm sorry, my loved ones (not counting those among you (if there are any) who have committed and not repented from any heinous crimes... I know most of you are wonderfully civilized rather young so hopefully you haven't done such things. Don't ever do such things... AVOID HEINOUS CRIMES, young ones (and older ones). Unless you want to cook crystal meth in an RV in the desert with a cool facial-haired friend. Cuz that's pretty badass. And even then, do it for your own personal use rather than to sell it- it's okay to ruin your own life, but don't ruin other people's too.)**

**I was wondering how you guys imagined Greeley to look- I've got a pretty clear image in my head and wondered if you guys did too :D Let me know!**

**Thanks for reading, guys! x**


	54. Chapter 54: Onslaught

**AN: What up, people of the world... hope you've all had a lovely day. I'd bore you with anecdotes of my mundane life, but I'm pretty certain you'd rather I just shut up and get on with it- so here we go, for your reading pleasure! Please let me know in the reviews what you think of this chapter, they're always very much appreciated! x**

**And so... ANDALE-ANDALE-ARRIBA-'RIBA!**

**Chapter Fifty-Four:**

**Onslaught**

Meanwhile at the store, Spencer had just returned home; Negan pulled him away from the others, eager to hear the news, and listened to what he had to say.

"I scoped it out a few hours and that group," Spencer told Negan, "and I say _group-_ they're not as out on their last limbs as they'd like us to think."

Negan nodded for him to continue, and Spencer said, "I didn't get much of a look from the distance I was at, but they look to be set up pretty fine... I'm guessing that's why they've said we can have this town they're going on about. You remember that skivvy old prison we drove past on the way here?" Negan nodded again. "Well, looks like they've managed to clear some of it out... they drove up in there, looks like they're confined to the one cell block. Not just that... there's more than the six of them. Like I said, I didn't see much, but there was a kid and another specky-looking guy- the kid was holding a baby, man."

"A_ baby?!_"

"A baby. Then can't be so down and out if they can afford to keep a kid that young alive, now, can they? It was real young- way, _way_ less than a year. You see what i'm getting at?"

"Yeah... you reckon they've got a woman."

"probably _women_, plural.. I wouldn't be surprised if there's alot more they're lying to us about than just this, either. I don't trust 'em, man."

"Neither do I," Negan noted, "but this town if it is real- I want it. We _need_ it. We go through with tomorrow, we _own_ this fucking town, then whatever happens next happens."

"...We can't keep working with these guys, though, man. They're bad news, I can feel it."

"I guess not," Negan acknowledged. "Listen, Spence... let's keep this to ourselves. I'm sure they have... uh... their own little reasons for withholding such information, but for now i'd like to keep things sweet with those bastards. They could come in useful if we ever run into any shit in the future- call in favors and such like. So as far as the others are concerned, we say you saw they had a little camp... just the six of them."

Spencer looked a little withdrawn at the lie but agreed all the same.

**~oOo~**

The prison group headed out at mid-day, the men driving up in the same truck they'd used the other day- Sasha, Mirya, Maggie and Carol took another route, lying as low as possible that they might spring in as Snipers when Woodbury was in so much chaos no-one would notice them jumping over the walls; In the mens truck Milton fiddled awkwardly with Merle's prosthetic, trying to get is newly acquired blade- a less durable cleaving knife that probably wouldn't withstand much damage- to the leather straps of the arm guard. Merle hissed derogatory jeers at Milton whilst he worked, becoming more and more agitated; by the time he had attached it they had reached the silos, and Negan's group were already stationed outside the agricultural units. The prison group got out, pre-kitted in their protective riot gear, helmets and all minus the bullet proof vests, which they had bequeathed to the women in the hopes of keeping them safe when they were up sniping; the groups exchanged greetings and ran over their plan again, before taking a few minutes to prepare themselves for the onslaught to come. Bed Maddley, the ex-soldier who had claimed to be from the group Woodbury had slaughtered, pulled out a packet of sealed Marlboro silvers and handed them around to his colleagues. The packet was running thin when he reached Axel, who plucked the final cigarette and asked,

"You sure you don't want the last one?"

"I'm cutting down," Ben told him, adjusting his glasses, "looks to me like I've got enough problems without adding cancer to the list... go ahead, take it."

Axel thanked the man and reached for Merle's light, who was deep in conversation with Negan himself, who once again was taking a vibrant interest in the instrument covering Merle's cast off limb. Daryl, on the other hand, was stood at the outskirt of the forest beside the red-headed crossbow yielder Evan, who kept scratching the side of his nose and trying his best not to let their awkwardness amount to conversation; unable to stand the quiet any longer, he asked,

"What model is it? Your bow?"

Daryl noticed him admiring the weapon his half-uncle had brought him with envious eyes, and leaned a little further from Evan as though to protect it.

"Horton," Daryl told him, turning it a little closer to himself, "HD Scout 125."

"Mine's an Express," Evan told him, showing his the face of his own bow, "Hunter SL... mine's bigger than yours."

"...Prob'ly best if we don't go there."

Eventually it was decided that they were good to go, and the two groups found themselves heading back to their vehicles and driving in a precession lead by the prison truck to Woodbury. The prison group found their journey to be near silent, nerves and contemplation invading the air about them.

"We sure about this?" Axel questioned eventually, and Merle handed him a cigarette- hell, they all needed their nerves calming. There was no being sure this was all going to go straight.

"Ain't no goin' back now," he reasoned, sucking on his own smoke and chocking down the thick smog, "I just hope it don't all go tits up."

"We'll find a way," Rick said, fingers tight around the wheel of the slow vehicle, "once we're in there, Daryl and I will go after the Governor- you all hold up the barracks out front. We've got the smoke bombs to use initially, but once we're in there don't go throwing them around- it'll make things harder on us all."

"...How are we gonna distinguish between Negan's group and the Woodbury soldiers?"

"...We might not be able to." Everyone in the vehicle sensed the purposefulness in Rick's statement, and the car went quiet.

"...You sayin' what I think you're sayin', Friendly?"

Rick tried to find the right words. "All I' saying is that I don't trust them," he breathed, "we know they're dangerous- look what happened to Laurel and those men she was with, the stories Randall told. Maybe... maybe it was a mistake getting them involved, after all. Maybe we did make the wrong call. But we can't back out now, so let's- let's just get this over with, hope for the best... bullets are gonna fly, we all know that. People are gonna die today, and not all of them are gonna be Woodbury soldiers... if a few of Negan's men get caught up in the crossfire, maybe even Negan himself... well, maybe that's not such a bad thing after all."

"You're startin' to sound like Tomas," Axel gurned uncomfortably, and the vehicle fell into brutal silence again.

**~oOo~**

Judith was screaming.

She was yelling her little head off as though her world were about to end, and regardless of the efforts of those remaining in the prison to simmer her down, she continued her screams. Michonne lay awake in her cell, staring at the ceiling as she listened to the girls outside.

"I dunno why she's all colicky today," Beth breathed, rubbing her forehead through stress as she stroked the baby's hair- Alvi, who was developing quickly now, wiggled a little closer to Judy and watched her as she picked him up and blew a raspberry on his belly, to which he giggled- Judith heard the sound and stopped screaming in order to listen.

"...I hate this," Laurel said to Beth once both babies were settled, kicking her feet up on the desk in the guard tower, "this is ridiculous... everyone else is out there risking their lives and here we are, doing _nothing._ We should be out there with them, _helping,_ not sat here being about as useful as a pod of peas-"

"It won't take long," Beth tried to reassure her, "they'll be back soon, and we'll have everything sorted out... besides, if they do bring lots of people back we'll have our hands full."

"I'm just worried about them," Laurel breathed, grabbing Beth's hand and giving it a sharp squeeze. Beth squeezed back, letting go, and reassured her,

"Yeah... me too."

"I'm sorry if I freaked you out yesterday," Laurel apologized, "out there killing Walkers like I'd lost my mind... maybe I had. And then that... thing last night."

"Oh... yeah. That. Do you um... you know..._ like_ him?"

Laurel felt herself begin to smile nervously, looking away. She buried her head into her hand for a moment and breathed,

"Is it weird, Beth? Am _I_ weird?"

"Kinda," Beth smiled awkwardly. "I mean... he is, like, 100 years old. And he's scary as hell."

Laurel smiled. "He's not that scary."

"...Yeah, he is."

Laurel laughed uncomfortably, burning with embarrassment. "Yeah... I guess it is all pretty weird."

_"Really_ weird."

"Alright, that's enough," Laurel smirked at the tease, smacking her friend in the side. Beth tried to form her words and concluded eventually with,

"I'd kind of guessed it already... it was just a shock, that's all. But so long as your happy and he's not making you _do_ anything, I suppose... there's no harm, is there?"

"No," Laurel breathed, "I guess not... but, uh... could we keep it quiet, the whole kiss thing? It's just- just a little embarrassing, that's all. And I know every one would think Merle's this massive perv, like he's... _grooming_ me or something. _Ugh._ And I know Daryl would flip his lid."

Michonne shook her head slightly, closing her eyes again and letting the girls unusual conversation guide her back to sleep.

**~oOo~**

When they were close to Woodbury, Rick gestured for the cars of the Saviors to pull up- each vehicle did and the two groups converged on the forest's edge, Daryl and Evan serving as watchdogs whilst Negan and Rick went over the plan a final time.

"We attack from the front, boys," Negan declared, "take out their guards then make our way in, cause as much chaos as possible, keep their forces distracted whilst Rick and his boys go after this Governor fellow."

"Minimal casualties," Rick added, "this isn't a kill mission... drive back Woodbury's forces, disarm as many as possible, and simply call them out of action- we do as little damage as possible. Once we've got the Governor and Woodbury's soldiers are inebriated, we'll set about collecting up the residents."

"There's a town hall at the back," Milton called, "upon a disaster like this the residents have been told to converge there- we should be able to get every one in one place and sort out who is going where... talk things through, show them this isn't an attack as much as a rescue."

"Once they've gone their separate ways, we'll divide Woodbury's supplies," Negan offered, "looks like you guys are gonna have your hands full, if you are planing on taking on so many. You'll need it more than we will- and we've still got the stuff from the store. When things cool down today I'll send a few of my men out to clear the place, we'll split everything 50/50. Your boys have done us a massive favor, letting us take this Woodbury place. Bit of free reign, space to breathe... it's what we need. Giving you some supplies is the least we can do, I figure."

"Thank you," Rick said, surprised by the mans generosity- once more they shook hands and the Saviors headed for their individual cars.

"Let's haul some ass!" Negan yelled, windows unwound, "see ya on the other side, boys!"

Axel saluted as the Saviors headed off to cause as much commotion amongst Woodbury's soldiers as possible; the prison group began running in the opposite direction, up to the left wall of Woodbury, once again by the warehouses- once the violent commotion of smoke bombs, panicked screams and gunfire began at the opposing end of the town, they headed out of the bush and sprang over the wall.

"Let's do this!" Daryl roared, charging out into the street and motioning to Milton, who pointed over at the Governor's apartment, where Martinez and Greeley had been stationed by the door, both looking on in horror as they watched the events unfold at the opposite end of the town- those residents who couldn't or were too scared to fight were fleeing in the direction of the prison group, running past them obliviously and to the town center, clearly assuming that was where the Governor had stationed himself- but Milton had known him better.

"In his apartment," he breathed stoically, gesturing to Martinez and Greeley's appointment as guard dogs, "like I said."

"Coward," Merle growled, then noticed the boy- a lurch of anger and maniacal menace pulled inside of him as he caught sight of Greeley, and he pulled his knife. "Just who I wanted to see," he hissed, marching over- Greeley caught site of him from across the street, aimed his rifle in a sudden panic and Martinez reacted in much the same way. Bullets flew and the prison group retaliated, crouching low as they charged forward through the remnants of the fleeing Woodbury residents- Martinez took a quick bullet to his side, followed by a sharp hit to the head, and dropped instantly.

Greeley stared down at the body of his fallen comrade- he swallowed hard, then in a fiery panic released the last of his rounds, bullets blistering all around him.

"You leave him to me!" Merle roared ducking out of the way of a bullet flying by his helmet, gesturing for the others to cease their fire- they did so, and Greeley pulled the trigger one last time. There was a yell from behind Merle as he approached, and he turned quickly-

_Axel._

The man was suddenly on the ground, bleeding from his waist and yelling out in agony.

"Bastard!" Glenn yelled, dropping beside their friend and trying his best to help- by the time Merle had whipped his head back around, Greeley had dropped his now useless rifle and was sprinting off into the network of alleys beside the Governor's home.

"No you don't, you little _shit!"_ Merle growled, taking chase with a renewed hatred, veering down the alley after him- Daryl yelled after his brother, going to follow, but Rick grabbed hold of his arm.

"We need the Governor," he barked, and Daryl nodded, glancing down with worry at Axel.

"I... I can't feel my legs," Axel breathed in panic, "Jesus, boys, I can't feel my _legs-!"_

"It's alright," Milton reassured him, "don't worry, we'll get you out of here and somewhere safe- the bullet might be lodged in your spine, we need to-"

"Ah, Jesus... it really fucking hurts-!"

"No! No, don't try to move, you could displace-"

"Please, just get me outta here!"

"Alice's med office is just the opposite side of the street," Milton told the others, almost tripping over Martinez' body in his attempt to show them, "If we can get him there, I should be able to fix him up- Alice taught me a few things for emergencies-"

"Then let's go!" Daryl yelled, and Rick stopped him again, nodding up at the Governor's abode. As Milton, Tyreese and Glenn began working on moving Axel to the safe building, bundling him beneath their outer coats as a stretcher, Rick and Daryl glanced at the height of the Governor's apartment.

"...Let's finish this."

**AN: FUCK YEAH********... ASSEMBLE THE LERLE ARMY! ****GRAB YOUR PITCH FORKS, BABIES.**

**WE'RE GOING TO WAR.**


End file.
